Keys to the past
by KIMMIKY
Summary: When Merlin offered to show a new magical pupil how the druids celebrate samhain it was never supposed to be so complicated. And now a series of events has been started by a magical mishap that could change the course of history. First part of my three part story.
1. Chapter 1

Keys to the past.

Chapter 1.

Thick fog muffled the sound of Merlin's hard heeled winter boots as he walked purposefully down the lamplit street. The city seeming to sleep around him so quiet were the sounds of the rush hour traffic running along the main road at the end of this leafy suburban row of terraces. The thick black wool coat and charcoal grey scarf did little to ward off the october chill. The trouble, he had found, was that England was damp. Even summer was humid, it made the hotter months uncomfortable and the winter ones almost unbearable, with it's creeping, wet cold that seeped into every crack or crevice and swirled through every seam. And this summer had felt more like winter the cold had lingered far past the dates it usually did during the spring months and the heat of summer had never really risen far. Now they were enduring an early onset of cold again. Even without snow it was miserable, with drizzle and freezing fog and pervasive, sodden, winds that could cut like a knife. He couldn't wait to get home to his modest townhouse and set the fires going.

Of all the modern conveniences available he liked the gas and electric fires the least. He had lived with open log fires so long in his many years of waiting it gave him a sense of comfort to sit with one going now. The crack of logs or coals splitting in the heat reminded him of some of the best and worst of times. And he needed that comfort today.

As a guest professor of literature at Stafford university and a private tutor for supposedly the same, he could be either comfortably well off or completely broke depending on how many students he had at any one time. The private literature classes were not always literature classes of course. His standing as a tutor of magic was not widely known, even amongst the magical community, he moved around too much in order to preserve his anonymity, but he did get several from time to time.

Magic had dwindled somewhat from the last golden age of Camelot when Gwen ruled with a gentle hand. Merlin at her right hand, those times had been nice, free in a way he had never been before. Of course he had believed just after Arthur died that he would never get over his death, or Gwaine's or Khilgarrah's. But as he had come to realise a long, long time ago, time heals most wounds. He had nothing really but time. And as the years had passed and he had finally realised the significance of his name, as he failed to age whilst those around him looked older and older and eventually passed into their final rest. He found within himself an acceptance and resignation for such a fate. He wasn't thrilled by any means, had raged at the gods who had done this to him, until he also realised that no amount of rage would make him die any quicker and gave up. One of the very few times he had ever given up on anything.

One of the newest times he felt like giving up was right about now. Megan Frier was a 19 year old spoilt brat, know it all, and was at this moment his only pupil. Her Parent's were magic users, her grandparents were magic users, her older siblings were magic users. She did not want to be one. Not if she couldn't use magic how she wanted to use it. Unfortunately she had no choice in the matter. Her powers had manifested 3 weeks ago by burning one whole wing of her parent's mansion down and causing hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of damage. Her parent's understandably were thrilled at the strength she displayed though not overly enthusiastic about where it had shown itself or the cost of replacing everything. Merlin had been drafted in as an emergency tutor to try and teach her control and it was not going well.

Megan was headstrong, stubborn, egotistical and so damned sure she was right all the time. It reminded Merlin of Arthur's earliest attitude to be honest. However Megan was unlike Arthur in the fact that he **would** listen on occasion. Megan **never** did.

Today had been worse than any of those previous. Megan had flatly refused to even try any of the exercises Merlin had set her, citing her need to rest with a headache. Merlin had taken one look at the girl's bottle strewn sitting room floor and all sympathy had fled. His no nonsense attitude had irritated the girl to such an extent it had ended in a full blown temper tantrum where the windows had exploded, resulting in Merlin's having to use magic to fix them. At least there he had been able to get through to her. She had stared rather wide eyed at his being able to cast such magic with merely a thought. He hadn't needed to use verbal spells for anything unless extremely tired or gravely injured since around the 12th century, perhaps he should mention that, it might shock her into doing as she was told for once. Merlin had no time for people who couldn't be bothered to help themselves.

At long last Merlin's gate came into view, the black sheen of the damp metal making it seem colder as he pushed it open one handed fishing in his pocket for the key he didn't really need but liked to use none the less. Gaining a habit of opening doors automatically with magic had gotten him in trouble on a few occasions and he now tried to avoid it at all costs, since the last incident had come as close to killing him as it was likely to get without actually crossing that line. The weeks of excruciating recuperation every time he came that close, were just not worth it.

The deep blue painted door gave easily and he was quickly stood in the Victorian tiled hall of his home. The coat and scarf, disposed of onto the bentwood hat rack, boots off and slippers on. He loved the invention of slippers, would live in them and a dressing gown if he had the choice, unfortunately there was no chance of it. Life did have a habit of intruding, whether he wished it or no.

The first stop was the living room and setting alight the logs laid ready with a hand wave and a flash of his eyes. The candles either side of the mantle were also lit giving a gentle glow to the otherwise deep gloom of the late October evening.

Moving through the living room, feet registering the difference between the soft cushioning of the pure silk, wool, Persian carpet and the polished wood floor as he moved to his dining kitchen. Again his eyes flashed and the fireplace roared to life. The water left purposefully in the mug on the side heated instantly to boiling and all that was left to do was place the teabag into it and let it steep for a few moments. Once the bag was disposed of he took himself back into the living room and plunked himself down in his favourite chair, feet out and crossed, spreading himself out towards where the fire had had just enough time to ward off a little of the chill.

Ah it was good to be home. Sipping his tea, mindful of its heat he could relax and spend some time contemplating his latest pupil. The blond haired brown eyed beauty was spirited, too spirited. She had an attitude of superiority that Merlin longed to wipe from her face. He had seen more in his 1500 year existence than she could possibly imagine and it irked him that she treated him like dirt beneath her shoes, believing herself better merely for being supposedly well travelled and benefitting from an extensive education. He wondered what she might say if he told her he had circumnavigated the globe more times than she had drawn breath, and on the back of a dragon no less. His education was second to none, every generation or so he would enrol on another university course in yet another city and refresh his knowledge in medicine, science, languages, history and technology. He needed something to do to keep from boredom after all. Plus he didn't know what would be required of him once Arthur did rise again, if he ever did. He was beginning to think it would never happen it had been so long and so many conflicts where Albion had been threatened.

Megan just could not grasp what magic was all about. She wanted to use it for frivolous ends. Their slow progress due mainly to Megan's insistence that she be allowed to try casting glamour's, or playing tricks on her classmates, not trying to learn the basics. She wanted results now. She did not understand that magic is a force of nature, wild and unpredictable until tamed. To be harnessed not for vanity or for laziness to do your work for you but a tool to help you achieve your goals. Every lesson lately ended in a screaming match and Megan losing control yet again. He needed a distraction and he rather thought Megan did too.

Samhain was in only a couple of days, perhaps if he could show her how it was supposed to be celebrated. Instead of the commercialised interpretation of Halloween she had only seen thus far he would take her to a druid ceremony, show her how magic and nature came together in harmony, she may see for herself what wonders magic could do if used properly. There were few druids left now, the religious practices of such groups slowly dying out, but there was one clan left near Glastonbury and he had an open invitation from their leader to join them for the festivals. He would petition Megan's parents in the morning.

Decision made and feeling more weary than hungry, Merlin finished his now tepid tea, deposited his mug in the sink and made his way to bed, feeling partially better about his options.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I knew there was something I forgot yet again! Huh I will get the hang of this at some point. I don't own Merlin any more than I own the moon, I just play with the characters from it.**

 **...**

Keys to the past.

Chapter 2.

Merlin's persuasive skills were obviously on form as the arrangements had been made the same day for an early departure the next. Megan far from grumbling about the trip seemed curiously eager. It transpired that her parents had never actually let her take part in the festivals associated so intrinsically with magic and the druids. She was actually looking forward to seeing the celebrations firsthand.

For Merlin's part it would be a bittersweet occasion. The sheer number of dead he would remember was rather staggering. He had buried so many friends, family, his wife. As Gwen's advisor he had found love in the most unlikely place. One of Annis' granddaughters came to a feast celebrating the birth of Arthur's son. Born eight and a half months after Camlann, Merlin had been enchanted at first sight, not only of little prince Llachau but also of Princess Elaine of Caerleon. He had tried to resist, the woman was after all a princess despite not being in line for the throne, but they had kept meeting accidentally, and the relationship had bloomed regardless. Annis had had no real qualms. Merlin was by that point a landed lord and was a well respected member of the court. She had also seen Elaine's reciprocated affections for the warlock and they had married a year later. They had never been blessed with children, and at the time Merlin had regretted it, until had come the moment he had to say goodbye to his beloved wife and Merlin's discovered immortality had hung between them. He had been glad then when the pyre had been lit that he would never have to say goodbye to his descendents too. He decided then and there that he would never have another wife or children he could not bear to know he would outlive them all.

Merlin had always had a very good memory, a circumstance of his being made of magic he supposed. They called it eidetic or photographic nowadays. If only they knew that only those with a strong magical presence had such mental makeup. It was both a blessing and a curse being able to recall all his loved ones in such heart rending detail. Especially now whilst driving south down the motorway in his battered ford, Megan at his side complaining about his car, his choice of music and excitedly chattering about the upcoming ceremonies by turns. Merlin ignored her, the excuse of needing concentration for driving being rather convenient for his reticence.

Their host would meet them in Glastonbury itself. David was one of the few remaining true druids left. Those that had followed the old ways had slowly diminished over the centuries since Camelot's golden age. They became experts at hiding once again, especially when magic became persecuted during the witch hunts. Merlin had done what he could for them, but it had been little enough when the whole of Albion was affected. They had drifted away from the practices of the old ways and embraced more modern ideals to blend better, and in doing so had lost some of the wonderment a druid feels as he communes with the land. There were now only three clans who still stuck religiously to the old calendars and festivals. David's being the oldest as he was a direct descendent of Iseldir's camp, and indeed of that clan chief himself. He was also one of only a handful who still recognised him as Emrys.

The shock Merlin had felt at being addressed by that name after so many years had been rivalled only by that felt by the young man who had named him so. His eyes had been saucers. Mouth gaping and staring at the stranger in their midst with awe. The three others in the room with them had been exceptionally startled by the name crossing the lips of the chiefs then teenage son. They had given him a strange look and then examined Merlin more closely, finally concluding that he had in fact been much mistaken. Merlin hadn't been surprised they had failed to know him. As his magic had grown so had his control and it had become much easier to conceal his true nature from prying eyes. The exceptions were a very small number of individuals who could see through any glamour or spell he could throw out. Perversely since his magical awakening in the crystal cave it had always been the weakest magic users who could detect him rather than the strongest. Merlin had never yet figured out how they managed it. When asked those users could never explain how they knew either.

David had been baffled by his peers' reaction. He **knew** Merlin was Emrys and could not fathom why he was the only one to see it. Merlin had taken him aside and explained things, begging him not to say more. That he couldn't stand the attention or the pity that bloomed across people's faces when they realised exactly why he was called Emrys. David had reluctantly agreed. They had been friends of a sort since, hence the invitation.

…..

Megan's good mood and behaviour lasted longer than Merlin would have guessed but she had still reverted to whining before the druid village came into view. It brought back feelings of nostalgia to see these lands. They had once belonged to Merlin after all. Gwen had gifted them to him along with his title when he became her advisor. They had been empty then, just forests and a small hamlet surrounded by fields. He and his wife had worked hard to build it into a community. During the restoration of king Charles II he had signed it over to the descendents of Iseldir's Druid clan knowing it would become a safe haven for magic users. The wards he had placed around it at the time meant no-one with ill intent towards the community could find it. Now it was a show village. A reluctant tourist attraction with its exceptionally old buildings and the whole community comprising of openly practicing Druids. There were definite raised eyebrows from anyone new moving into the area, believing the stories of extreme cultist practices. But their curiosity soon made them visit it and realise the village had such a peaceful, normal atmosphere. And most Druids within the village could trace their families back for several generations. They were just another religious group like the Amish in America and there was a certain pride from the towns in the surrounding countryside to know they boasted such a thing. The council never murmured about them and just left them to it. Anyone wishing to cause any trouble never stayed there for long and left. It was probably one of the most sleepy villages within the county, tourists notwithstanding.

Which is why when Megan got her first glimpse of it she looked slightly horrified. With it being a tourist attraction she had expected more entertainment prospects than a tiny pub, shop and several streets of ancient stone houses surrounding a village green with a large carved stone in its centre. There was the manor house at the end of the main road but it was only barely visible through the trees as they drove across the bridge over the slow flowing river. There wasn't even a church since this was not a Christian community and most religious festivals were held outdoors. The feasts and celebrations after any ceremonies also either being held outside or in the long low hall at the side of the green.

Merlin could already see the bonfires being built to ward off the autumn chill when they feasted after the main rites were completed on the tor. It was a celebration that would last through the night and well into morning. The rites were a very solemn, traditional occasion and very formal up until midnight. But the event after they wound down from the hill above, oh now that was a sight to see. Most if not all the households in the area made their own wine or brandy and this was a chance to taste this year's batch. The stone in the centre of the village would be soaked with all the drinks poured on it for all those loved ones who had departed this life. There would be tables groaning under the weight of homemade food. Blankets spread and music being played by the gifted amongst them. Dancing, singing, stories and most of all magic. It was a night when the village came alive. No outsiders were technically allowed in for the festivals. The magic being a little hard to explain to non Druids, but there were magic users like himself who had invitations to attend whenever they could spare the time.

Merlin looked back over to Megan as the car pulled up in front of the imposing looking stone manor he had built back in the 14th century. It was the last in a long line of houses built on the same site dating back all the way to Gwen's rule. He was just in time to see her mutinous expression now fixed firmly in place, He would have to head that off before it became a full blown tantrum or they may not make it all the way to the celebration.

…..

The maiden, or rather the woman who was to play the part of the maiden in the celebration had become ill. David looked a little harried by this as he came down the steps of the manor to greet them. She had unfortunately discovered a mild allergy to some of the spices they were using in the food for the feast and had to be taken to the nearest A and E to be checked out. It meant that the role of maiden would have to be filled again fairly soon if they were to rehearse their part in the ceremonies before tomorrow evening and several of the young women of the camp were missing having gone shopping for the day. It was a problem he would have to work on later he thought as he spied his guests for the next four days climbing out of the car at the front entrance.

"Welcome. Welcome. I do hope you enjoy your stay with us. Martin my old friend it is good to see you again. It has been far too long. Would you introduce me to this lovely young lady." The one armed hug was reciprocated with enthusiasm and then he turned back to study the girl Merlin had told him needed this break. She was looking on in something like bemusement. Merlin hardly ever let anyone get close enough emotionally to hug anymore. A testament to his years of loss he supposed. It was a massive sign of trust and friendship that allowed David to invade his personal space and he was entirely cognizant of the fact he was only one of a very few afforded the privilege.

"David. Meet Megan Frier my newest pupil." She stuck out her hand almost reflexively when he did, eyes round and smiling faintly at the twinkle laying deep in his irises.

"Charmed!"

"Huh. It's good of you to invite us." The greeting had been slightly more civil than usual. Perhaps she could be trusted to be moderately well behaved. Hmmm he would have to see.

David glanced at the young woman Merlin had brought with him and pondered. Merlin hardly ever even came to these gatherings preferring to observe the old ways alone. And he certainly never brought anyone with him. This young woman must be worth a closer look. In fact if Merlin thought so highly of her to bring her along, he thought perhaps it would be more fitting to offer the position of Maiden to her, an honoured guest rather than select from those left in the camp. He knew if she were a pupil of Emrys she had magic and would most likely be able to perform the small spell the rites required with ease. There would be fighting amongst the camps younger set either way, but as a stranger this girl would fare better than anyone within their select community. Less jealousy at the very least and if anyone did begrudge her part she would be gone in a few days. Yes this seemed the best possible solution under the circumstances.

Merlin was not enthusiastic once he had explained the situation and offered up the option despite Megan's eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"David she has never even been to a ceremony before, you can't expect her to remember what to do and when in so short a time." He ignored the hurt look in the girl's eyes as he said it, knowing that though the magic was rather simple to perform it needed a greater control than Megan possessed right now.

"I would love to!" Megan could be very determined when she wanted something badly enough and she was extremely flattered by the offer. What she did not realise was how much work it would take. He would have to try and convince her not to accept the role. Merlin drew her away from the clan leader. He may not think much of her attitude but he was not about to embarrass her with what he had to say in front of the man.

"Megan it's more than wearing a pretty dress and saying a few words. It's a great responsibility and I'm not sure you…." She cut him off angrily. Why did he always have to spoil everything?

"No. He asked me and I'm going to. Stop trying to control me! You're just like my parents." Merlin doubted that. For one her parents were entirely too indulgent with her. Not curbing her excesses at all. Coming up with excuses for her behaviour rather than doing anything about it.

"Megan that is enough! You do not have the finesse needed for it and this display of temper just proves it. You're 19 not 9 stop acting like a spoiled child."

"You keep telling me I'm not good enough but you never teach me anything worthwhile. Maybe if you did I would be good enough."

"The magic you wish to learn is not true magic. It is manipulative and I **will not** teach it to you. It is against everything Magic **is** and we have been through this before. I will not stand by and watch you willingly walk down a path of self destruction."

"I never asked for you to teach me. My parent's picked you and quite frankly I don't see why they have such faith in you. You're rather pathetic really."

That was it! He knew the girl was trying to manipulate him. Using her barbed tongue to hurt and get a raise out of him. But Merlin had lived more lives than she could possibly fathom and he was done pandering to selfish people. He wondered what she would say if he told her she sounded just like Morgana had the year she had turned on everyone. Always willing to wound and hurt others with her tongue lashings to alleviate her own low sense of self esteem if things did not pan out exactly as planned. His tone became low and dangerous enough to make her take a mental step back but not knowing his true worth and stubborn as ever it did little to deter her.

"These people have lived through these rites, you have not. You have no clue what will be required of you and I am quite frankly amazed that David thought it a good idea. Your magic is all over the place and though the spell should be simple, you lack the self control needed to perform it. You will embarrass not only yourself if you pursue this but could ruin the whole celebration. I will not be a party to it. If you do this you are on your own."

"Oh and what could you do anyway? Quit? It's not as if I can't get another tutor."

"Oh I wouldn't be too hasty in your assumptions. You ruin this and I will be forced to inform your parents…" She snorted as if this threat didn't faze her in the least. But she hadn't let him finish. "…that you are in need of specialist instruction and we need to step up your training, since your magic is becoming dangerously unstable. Wherein you would be under **my** orders, moved to my warded house with a chaperone and magic would become **all** you do until I know your control is sufficient to not hurt anyone." Megan had paled considerably. But she was brave even if stupidly so at times and her squared shoulders and determined expression merely signs she was far from giving in. "You have no authority to do that!"

"Oh but I do. That is why I took your case. You don't think they would just draft anyone in for a newly manifested gift as strong as yours do you? I am the best there is and if I believe your magic to be beyond your control I have the power to deal with it." She was tenacious he would give her that. Even in the face of laying the facts out straight for her she didn't quail and fold under as so many other stubborn young people had. She still stood tall gave him a narrow eyed glare and strode off towards their host. Where her gaze softened and became downright flattering as she accepted with pretty compliments and soft smiles.

She would learn, Merlin thought, that he never made idle threats. She was in for a lot of hard work rehearsing her part in this and if she ruined it, well, he would do exactly as promised and make sure she realised magic was not a game. It was a responsibility. And yes there was great fun to be had, but first you had to know where to draw the line. Where the silliness and light hearted mischief turned dark and became a path too twisted to find your way back. He would lose no more people he cared for to that black road. He had made a promise to himself, after he killed Morgana, his creation.

He would never let anyone else fall because of his mistakes, he was not about to start now.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Sorry for the delay in uploading I keep getting an error message when doing the chapters for this fic. No idea why since the ones for my other fic are uploading fine. I just think it has a problem with this story. Aargggghhhh! Oh well it's here now and have the next two sort of written though they need a bit of editing.**

 **And I still don't have merlin all to myself. Sigh. Shine and the BBC have no problems sharing amongst themselves but they won't even let me have a little piece of him. Sigh!**

 **...**

Keys to the past.

Chapter 3.

Merlin had his bag halfway unpacked in his usual room when David appeared in the doorway arms crossed and leaning casually on the frame.

"So care to tell me why you're so angry?"

"I'm not angry." Merlin carried on unpacking. It was true his fury had dissipated as it always did. He had never been able to hold a grudge for long in his whole 1500 year existence. He had come to the conclusion it was part of his genes, hotwired into his system. Not being able to hold onto his anger for long, even if justified, meant he couldn't end up resenting anything long enough to start a vendetta or seek revenge as so many others had. The supposedly exceptional purity of his magic preserved and left untainted. It implied he had been designed for this, whatever this was. Genetic engineering performed well before anyone even knew what genes were. He could see no real purpose to his being alive for so long. He never had.

"Alright let me rephrase that. Care to tell me why you **were** angry?" Merlin paused in the act of refolding a jumper lowering it to the bed. David knew him better than most, and wouldn't let this go.

"Why pick Megan?"

"Why not? If she's your pupil she has to be strong. The spell is simple. And it helps that I'm selecting a guest, saves the nit picking and claws. Druids or not they're still teenage girls and they can get quite vicious." The lopsided smile failed to pull one from the warlock.

"She can't do it you know. Strong as she is, I've never met anyone as self centred. And in 1500 years I've met an awful lot of people. She's lazy, spoilt, and too intelligent and stubborn for her own damn good. She has no control at all. I have no idea how to get her to listen. She's sliding down a very slippery slope and I can't seem to reach her." David cocked his head. For a warlock as old as his friend and with such magic at his fingertips he could be damned frustrating at times. And his rapid mood swings could be worse than a pregnant woman in labour.

"If anyone can, it's you." David gave a wicked grin and he added a touch of high drama to his voice. "Perhaps this is why you lived so long. The powers that be knew someday you would have to deal with **her.** " The laugh was startled out of the warlock and he shook his head at the man.

"What a thought. If that's true then perhaps the Christians have the right of it and there really is a hell. I wonder what I did to deserve such a fate?"

"Or you could be the guardian angel sent to save her." Merlin's smile slipped from his face like water through a sieve. He wasn't so very good at saving anyone. It didn't matter how many times a man was saved after all since death claimed everyone in the end. Everyone but himself that is.

David realised his mistake as soon as he had made it. Merlin never had been comfortable with being likened to a saviour. He had been told the stories of Camelot. Handed down by his family and told supposedly faithfully as traditional tales during festivals. He had also been told the real tales. Ones that were even more tragic than the purportedly true accounts of Arthur Pendragon, his knights of the round table and his faithful wizard given to every generation. The stories the druids told were different. More in keeping with the written romanticised legends. Obviously time and each successive retelling had warped them until they bore little resemblance to those Merlin told. He could recall such detail it brought the legends to life. But he had to wait until Merlin wanted to tell them.

He could see how much it pained him that Arthur still had not come back. As if he were an item in the lost property department waiting for its owner to come claim him. Knowing there was little chance of it happening but hoping none the less. David had come to realise that hope could be a very dangerous thing indeed.

"Merlin don't."

"Don't what?" The fake cheer Merlin used as protection had made an appearance. "And I'm not Merlin any more am I? I'm Martin Elms remember, and will be till I decide to kill myself again." The smile had become a grimace and his tone a mockery.

"Don't push everyone away. I know I don't have a clue what it's like to see all those you love fade and die before your eyes. But please don't just stop living to spare yourself pain. In the end it would be no life at all." Merlin sighed and his shoulders so full of tension before, now just drooped.

"Do you know how many times and in how many eras people have told me that? It doesn't get any easier. But you and they are as always, right. I tried living without." His tone was now wry. "I didn't last long. Had a burning need to talk to someone, anyone. Ended up sounding like Gwaine on his worst days. They thought I was nuts. Probably was for a while."

David paused for a moment, trying to see if his friend really would take his words to heart. He still seemed subdued but no more than usual. All seemed, if not right, at least better in his world. These lightning quick flashes of emotion were perhaps the most annoying habit of his friend. But the years could not have been easy to endure with the knowledge he held and he really could not begrudge him. David had become used to it over the years he had known him. He did however hope that the festival though solemn and undoubtedly guaranteed to remind him of all those he had lost, was also a way to show him that those yet living did indeed carry on, and that life itself was still worth fighting for, regardless of how long that life turned out to be.

"Will you be down for dinner?"

"I will. I look forward to meeting your wife again."

"And she has been running round the house in a frenzy getting ready for you both. She is very much looking forward to meeting your new pupil. She is the one going to be whipping her into shape for the rites. And believe me Caitlin is entirely capable of handling one spoiled teenager. She has had an awful lot of practice." Merlin did smile then a genuine one, not his mask, And David felt gratified that here at least he could help in even a small way. "And you never know. Megan might surprise you. She might learn something from this. It's why you came isn't it? You thought it might help her?"

"It is. But I still think throwing her in at the deep end is a bad idea. There is a slim, very paper thin chance, it might settle her. I just don't want her to ruin anything."

"Merlin you worry too much. It wouldn't be the first time the magic hasn't been perfect. Nerves usually. Nothing truly horrendous has ever come from it. The worst that ever happened was Maya turning her mother's hair orange. And though the giggling wasn't entirely appropriate it didn't ruin anything. We all had a good laugh about it at the feast after." Merlin smirked slightly at the mental image. Maya's mother was a very serious individual. Trying to picture her with bright orange hair was rather funny. But there was a nagging sense he felt at the whole scenario. A weighty feeling of impending catastrophe that he just couldn't shake. It was why he was so harsh with his pupil earlier. He shook his head again, it could just be his overactive paranoia, it had happened before. His link to the land was such that natural disturbances such as earthquakes were perceived by his magic if they were close enough to affect Albion. He would check the news over the next days. See if there was any unusual activity. Right now there was nothing he could do about it, he would keep a careful eye out and try to enjoy his time amongst his own kind once again.

* * *

Caitlin was a statuesque woman. Handsome rather than traditionally beautiful, With wavy auburn hair and bright green eyes full of intelligence and determination. Her temper in the clan was legendary, but if it was invoked it was always for a very good reason. It took a lot to rile the woman, but oh if you got on her bad side, beware.

The older children loved her because they could get away with an awful lot, but one quirk of her delicate eyebrow and they knew she meant business. It made her one of the best teachers for the teens in the camp and everyone knew they were in good hands.

Megan had never met anyone like her. Her money and the status of her parents had always conferred a certain immunity for her actions. No-one in her and her parents limited circle of friends ever gainsaid her. So she was used to getting her own way in everything. Her new tutor's attitude towards her lifestyle and even herself was therefore inexplicable and fostered a deep resentment, merely because she didn't know how to deal with it. No-one had ever not liked her before. And now she had been given into the care of this woman who if first impressions were to be believed, seemed to have the same opinion of her. It shook her small world.

The astonishment at yet another person not finding her completely captivating was such that her natural urge to manipulate and take over the lead became subdued and she actually started to listen for once.

Her demeanour at dinner was in fact so much improved that Merlin started to hope. Coming here now, he thought, could turn out to be one of his better decisions. And he relaxed marginally, even managing to enjoy the rest of the evening in good company.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Ye gads and little fishes, this was not easy! I have been researching druid Samhain rituals for weeks now and the only thing I have found they have in common is that they are celebrated on 31** **st** **October through to 1** **st** **November. EVERY SINGLE ONE IS DIFFERENT! So OMG I've taken bits from a few I liked and thrown them together, so if they are wrong tough. It's my fic and this is how my characters celebrate.**

 **I feel like sticking my tongue out and saying 'so there'. Sigh. Not a good look for a 34 year old. If I owned Merlin he would be able to help (though he would probably stick his tongue out as well.) And he would be typing too since over 5000 words is a little much even for me!**

* * *

Keys to the past.

Chapter 4.

The atmosphere was hectic as Merlin wound down the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast the next morning. Caitlin was already seated at the breakfast bar eating cereal and talking animatedly to…wonder of wonders, Megan.

It was a very rare thing to see the girl before noon, but perhaps she was eager to get started in rehearsals? Then Merlin took a closer look and noticed the bored look on her face, the mutinous set to her jaw and her slightly unkempt appearance as she played half heartedly with a piece of toast.

Was it wrong of him to find satisfaction in his pupil's so obviously unwilling early start? He had told her it would require more effort than standing there and looking pretty.

"Martin. Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a log as always Caitlin." He slid himself onto an empty bar stool and grabbed a bowl and spoon with a flash of gold. Caitlin laughed as she ducked to avoid them. But Megan narrowed her eyes at the non verbal spell. She had never known anyone else be able to do so much without actual words and was constantly trying to work out how he did it. He was gratified and yes even a bit smug thinking she would never work it out.

"Morning Megan." A very unladylike grunt was his only response.

"Is that today's paper?" Caitlin looked over from the sink, soapy water to her elbows.

"Yes. David brought it back. Mentioned you wanted one. Megan we'll be heading out soon to meet everyone else. You might want to get ready." Her voice brooked no arguments and Merlin expected some kind of grumble at the very least. But she was uncharacteristically quiet. He looked round at her in surprise and saw the tense set to her shoulders and clenched teeth. Hmm looks like she's met her match he concluded as she flounced dramatically from the room.

"Just what have you been doing to my student Caitlin?"

"Nothing she didn't ask for. Can see why you would want to bring her along now. She's a bit of a handful." Merlin choked on his tea. Splattering droplets over the surface. Well that was a massive understatement. Caitlin just passed him a cloth for the spillage and carried on. "Don't you worry I'll soon have her whipped into shape. She won't know what hit her." She pulled the last dripping pot from the water and dumped it on the side. Wiping her hands as she made her way out the door.

Merlin was left alone with his thoughts and his breakfast. The paper spread out before him he took his time looking through the major articles looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Some little while later he dumped it in the bin in disgust. Nothing, no earthquakes no cave ins, floods or even thefts. The nearest he'd come to finding anything even remotely odd was a science special on solar flares and sun spots. Since they'd recorded one they deemed the biggest this year. But they had never affected him before at least not that he knew. It could be he supposed he'd never really looked into it, had never needed to. Well if it was he didn't have to worry. They had never done anything truly harmful.

Deeming the matter closed he went in search of David. He didn't think his friend would say no to an extra pair of hands especially today.

…..

Merlin hadn't seen Megan all day. He had briefly passed the room he had originally built as a banqueting hall, but was now used for community gatherings and events, as he snuck back inside after setting up a perimeter of wards to keep the curious from coming too close during the actual ceremony since they would be using strong magic and one, they had no way of explaining it to outsiders and two, if Megan did happen to make a mistake he didn't want unknown people wandering by and potentially getting hurt.

When he had stuck his head round the door thinking to look in on their progress all he had heard was Megan's strident voice explaining why she couldn't do something, arms folded in the middle of a group of dismayed looking druids and Caitlin just standing to the side calmly unruffled and telling her to try again.

Merlin didn't know what part she had messed up he couldn't tell from her garbled description. He didn't wait to find out. He did have a momentary feeling of disgust at his own cowardice and then brushed it off realising this was a good lesson for the girl. She needed to realise that not everyone would be willing to fall all over themselves for her merely because she cocked a finger in their direction. And that nothing is worth anything without effort. Caitlin with her no-nonsense attitude and uncompromisingly high standards would be a very good influence.

He went back out to help set up and purify the circle on the tor and prepare the last details needed for the first part of the evening, and afterward helped to haul tables and chairs out to the green for the midnight feasting.

There had been sandwiches and fruit laid out ready whenever people could grab a break and so Merlin only saw his pupil for moments in passing all that afternoon and into early evening. The first real chance to talk coming just before everyone went to get bathed and changed for the festival itself.

Megan did not look exactly happy. She held a dress over her arm she kept eyeing with distaste and shooting venomous glances at Caitlin's back as she ascended the stairs.

"Something the matter Megan?"

"Have you seen what they want me to wear?" She held up the pretty and demure white chiffon gown like it was the dirtiest rag. "I can't wear this it's hideous. I have the most gorgeous Prada dress upstairs I brought specially, but they want me to wear this!"

Merlin could just picture the dress. Hemline somewhere near her butt cheeks, as tight fitting as she could get without having to be poured into it and very probably allowing as much skin as possible to be on show.

Gods know Merlin never had a problem with anyone dressing however they wanted but Megan's taste had always run to extortionate amounts of money being spent on the smallest amount of cloth coverage she could get away with without being arrested for public indecency.

It was not the image they wished to portray for the role of untouched maiden aspect of the triple goddess. "What's wrong with the dress?"

"More like what's right with it? For one it's white!"

"Yes of course its white it's to show purity."

"And I'm not allowed to do my hair."

"For youth and to show you are unbound." Her tone turned whiny now, almost as high pitched as a dogs.

"They won't let me wear makeup!" As if it were some crime for her naked skin to show instead of having her face needing be put on with a trowel.

"Megan stop whingeing, really. I tried to tell you. Tried to let you know it was something you wouldn't enjoy but you decided this. I already told you if you went ahead you were on your own. You made your bed now stop complaining if it's not as comfy as you expected."

"I hate you!" She whirled around in a fit of pique and stomped noisily in the direction of her room. Honestly what had he expected. That her attitude would disappear literally overnight.

Merlin's nagging sense of worry increased with every small show of temper as the evening progressed. Caitlin was a marvel and knew what she was doing. If she didn't believe Megan able to perform the spell she would have told her husband in no uncertain terms to find someone else. But even as Caitlin always managed to steer her back from the edge of true anger. Always distracted her just long enough for her annoyance to fade and then keep her occupied for longer and longer periods he still worried. Caitlin wouldn't be able to steer her moods once they started the long walk to the top of the tor. And it was Megan's mood swings that were the danger with her control. That and alcohol.

It was the latest action to draw out the girl's anger. The rule of no alcohol before the ceremony was anathema to her. They had all gathered in the kitchen to put the finishing touches to the dishes they had prepared for the feast. Gathering the bottles of homemade wine ready and just relaxing before they set out at eleven.

Megan came down the stairs for the third time having been sent back to wash her face yet again because she had decided the no makeup rule obviously didn't apply to her. Merlin could hardly believe it was the same girl when she finally came through the door. Scrubbed and fresh faced. Chiffon gown flowing from her tiny waist to the ground in soft folds, blond hair wavy and hanging freely down her back. She looked like some kind of Greek goddess. Perhaps Diana of the hunt with that fierce visage.

"What?" The belligerent tone was hardly encouraging.

"Nothing you just look better without the war paint. And that dress really does suit you." Megan just scowled although her eyes twinkled ever so slightly, as if she enjoyed the compliment but didn't want to seem like she was giving in. Then she spied the wine put out for later and her eyes lit up.

"Oh yes please!" Reaching for the nearest bottle fully intending to open it, Merlin had to move quick to snatch it from her grasp.

"No. I don't think so."

"Why the hell not!"

"The only alcohol to be consumed during the ceremony is the cider passed round for the ritual itself, I explained this, the druids explained this."

"The druids can do what they like, I want a drink."

"Megan as participants we do not drink until the rites themselves. Now come on it's time we left. It's a long walk up the hill."

"I wish I'd never come. This isn't any fun at all." Merlin kept the 'I told you so' from bubbling out, just barely.

They followed the long streaming lines of druids wending their slow way up the tor. Lights from their traditional coloured candles moving sinuously up the hill path winding round and round the spiral, looking for all the world like a great flaming Wyrm. There were five colours to the candles, all significant as he had explained to his pupil. The white for hearth and home, and for youth, these were carried by the children and young unmarried girls. Green carried by the teenage boys and young unmarried men and brown for the older men, both to symbolise Cernunnos the horned god of the hunt, for autumn, animals and sacrifice that they may survive another year. Red for the mothers or soon to be mothers, and black for winter and the crone carried by the older ladies.

At the top of the tor, the grassy knoll had been transformed and Megan was clearly affected by it. All the candles were being placed in a large circle, surrounding a smaller circle created of stones and branches of birch, rowan, fir, ivy, honeysuckle and rosemary, which in turn surrounded the altar holding a large brass fire-bowl embossed with stags, three sheaves of wheat, a jug of cider and a large platter of bread. The sacred and reverent feeling normally present was magnified tenfold and he heard rather than saw Megan gasp in awe.

Merlin placed his brown candle in the circle and stepped out to watch the proceedings, Megan carried her as yet unlit white one with her just inside the circle of candles. Their little group was one of the last to arrive, and as they took their places David stepped forward in the Brown garb of the High Priest for this evening.

He held his arms high in benediction and without further ado started the ceremony, calling out in a voice amplified slightly by magical means so all might hear.

"Hail spirits of the earth, sea and sky. We come in peace with the intent to celebrate Samhain. We ask with respect that you accept our presence. We call to you oh spirits of the three worlds to be with us in our sacred rites." David turned then towards the north, beckoning an old lady dressed head to toe in black,

"I call upon the Spirit of the North, the crone of winter, to be with us in our sacred rite." David turned 45 degrees clockwise.

"I call upon the Spirit of the East, the maiden, to be with us in our sacred rite." Megan stepped forward Hesitant look upon her face, and David turned again.

"I call upon the Spirit of the South, the Cernunnos, the horned god, to be with us in our sacred rite." A young man just out of his teens in Green moved to the circle, Ethan he thought his name was. And David turned for a final time and Caitlin strode to her place resplendent in vibrant red.

"I call upon the Spirit of the West, the Mother, to be with us in our sacred rite." David then lit the red candle she held with a word before doing the same to the black one held by the Crone. "A pair of candles is lit in honour of the goddess. She is maiden and mother throughout the year and tonight we honour her as Crone." He then lit his own brown candle and moved to light Ethan's candle.

"A pair of candles is lit in honour of the God. He is wild and fertile and animal, and tonight we honour him as the horned god." Merlin watched nervously as the next parts were for Megan to perform. But it seemed she had gotten over whatever nervousness she may have felt as she collected the platter of bread and the pitcher of cider moving around the people gathered to watch, allowing them to tear off small pieces of bread and take a sip of the alcohol. As they did she would speak in a clear carrying voice "May the blessings of the god and goddess be upon you." He smiled at her as she came to him. Perhaps he had been wrong and she could do this. She certainly seemed to be relaxing into the role well.

When the last person had been served, the platter and jug were returned to the altar as offerings to the spirits, that they too may share in the bounty. Then Megan lit the fifth and final candle, her own white one as she once again took her place around the altar. "This candle is lit in honour of hearth and home. The mother and father, the goddess and god, watch over us as we honour them." David took over once again.

"We light these five candles for the powerful goddess, and her mighty horned consort, the god, and for the safety of hearth and home. On this the night of Samhain, when the goddess is a wise Crone, and the god is a wild stag, we honour them both." Megan's last spoken part now came and glancing at Caitlin she gave the girl an encouraging nod.

"This is a time between the worlds, a time of life and a time of death. This is a night unlike any other night. Ancient ones, we ask your blessing. Goddess great Crone, mother of all life, we thank you for your wisdom." Megan bowed to the crone who returned the gesture and then turned to Cernunnos and did the same. "Horned god, master of the wild hunt, keeper of the forest, we thank you for all that you provide."

Next came the tricky bit. The part Merlin had been worried about. Their magic would be melded together, to form yet another circle, one that would connect them all together. Megan would become the conduit for all the Maidens within their group. It was simple but handling so many different strands was a juggling act. It required a certain finesse he wasn't sure Megan would ever master.

"Sacred ones, all you who have heard our intention. We ask that you encircle us now, branch touching branch, leaf touching leaf, roots beneath or feet entangling, that our circle may be strong, a centre of inspiration, reverence and learning, in the name of the god and goddess whose power we breath, we ask this be so.

We give our Magic to this circle, mingling and communing with the spirits of nature to create a sanctuary of peace." David sent out a tendril of Magic to those men who had held a brown candle, Merlin included. And Merlin sent one right back. All around the circle the people were doing the same. Creating a connection with each other that was closer than anything, just for this one night. Only the youngest children were excluded, merely because their magic had not developed fully. But the sense of peace that enveloped the tor was amazing all the same. As soon as the last person bound themselves to their aspect the circle could be cast. David threw out his magic to the crone, who caught it deftly and sent hers out to Megan. Now was the test, could Megan catch it and send out her own. She did barely, her control was shaky to say the least but she managed it and soon the circle was complete.

"Let all here know, that soul to soul, we weave our circle. Spirit to spirit that none may enter this sacred space, but those who come intone with our intention and in peace." David anchored the magic to the altar where it would remain until it was dispersed tomorrow evening, a small piece of everyone in the community and their honoured guests.

It was nearing midnight, Merlin could tell, attuned as he was to the magic of the earth. The veil was already thinning, he could feel it.

"We call to our ancestors, to those whose tears and blood, joy and happiness have been felt upon this land, whose songs course through our blood, and whose spirit lives on through our celebrations. We call to you to be with us in our sacred rite.

We come to celebrate Samhain, the most sacred of nights, when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest. We give thanks for all that we have, and we honour our ancestors and the dead at this time. We pray for our dead, that they may journey to the otherworld safely, and that we might know them again someday." Merlin closed his eyes. That was the bit that always got to him. Unless Arthur returned, which was looking less and less likely, he would never know any of his dead again. Since the other world was denied him. But David had not finished and neither had the rites. There was just this last and they would be done with nary a hiccup from his pupil. Dare he hope that everything would go off perfectly? He believed it just might.

"Let us now cast off the worries and fears that shackle us to the previous year. For behold! A new year is upon us. With the blessing and strength of the crone of winter, we come forth to unburden ourselves to her, in preparation for the long winter ahead. We will need our strength and conviction to see the winter through, and with her blessing it will be done."

The fire-bowl was lifted into the Crones waiting grasp and lit with a flash of her eyes and a whispered word. The fire would consume their negativity. They had all brought small symbols of things they wished to throw off. Merlin held a small picture. A sepia photo of his last remaining friend from his unit in the second world war. Martin had died in January. Yet another young man grown old. Merlin had killed off George Elms his old persona a few years previous and re-emerged as Martin Elms, George's grandson. Choosing the name Martin in honour of his friend but not realising he would lose him so soon. Another new lifetime, another new set of friends with more funerals set for a short lifetime hence. He wondered when the cycle would end.

He glanced over to his pupil wondering what she may want to cast off or remember. And realised by the haunted expression she had forgotten whatever it was she wanted to bring. He slowly made his Way over to her.

"You can just send emotions if you've forgotten your symbol." It was mistake to even suggest she had forgotten anything he realised. She never reacted well even just to implied criticism.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't forgotten anything." The tone was uncompromising, bitingly so. And loud, they were drawing curious eyes.

"Megan lower your…"

"Leave me alone!" The shout drew several disapproving stares. The circle had been dispersed and the people free to mingle but a certain level of reverence was expected until everyone had cast their token.

"What on earth is the matter?" Caitlin couldn't have come at a better time.

"I was just trying to help if I made a mistake I'm sorry."

"Well I don't need or want your help!"

"Megan please lower your voice. Just what is wrong with you? You were doing fine until…" Merlin took a closer look. The haunted expression was still there, and so was something else. Her eyes were flickering. Like they held twin flames. "Megan? What…"

"It won't go away." She sounded so vulnerable, panicky. All her false anger gone. She hadn't been stood trying to work out what to do because she had forgotten her token. She was trying to contain her magic. Small swirling breezes were picking up every time her eyes twitched.

"You have to calm down."

"I'm trying!" Caitlin looked from one to the other.

"Remember the breathing exercises we did in rehearsal, yes? Good now try with me." Caitlin breathed in through her nose and let it out through her mouth encouraging Megan to match hers with Caitlin. Whilst she did so Merlin called his own magic knowing just how strong the girls could be. It was fine they would get through this. But the moment he brought his magic forth he could tell it was the wrong thing to do. He had barely touched the girls with it before he was thrown across the grass and the storm unleashed.

Rainclouds gathered far too fast to be natural. And Merlin's magic seemed to be pulled slowly from him towards Megan. As did everyone else's, it was like she had become some kind of magical magnet.

He stood on shaky legs and looked towards the girl now laid on the ground curled in a ball, several feet from where she had been stood. He hadn't been the only one to have been thrown then. In fact looking around it seemed as if everyone had been hit with the blast. He made his way back over to the clearly horrified girl and went to touch her shoulder in reassurance, he couldn't. It was if some barrier had been erected around her.

The wind was picking up as the first rain fell and Merlin noticed the grass around Megan was burnt in a perfect circle. Just what had she done all unknowing? Because it wasn't her fault. Not entirely. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought **this** would result from her foolish agreement to take part. And things had been going so well until David had anchored the spell. Anchor, Circles within circles. Gods he was an idiot. If Megan hadn't released conrol to David properly then yes his anchoring the spell would create a loop. The girl had become a channel for everyone's magic and it was beyond her grasp just as much as everyone else.

"David sever the anchor, then get everyone down to the village. I'll sort it from here, she's stuck in a loop." David's eyes widened at the implication and started chivvying everyone down the short path. They ran despite the slippery grass and pebbles due to the unnatural downpour.

Despite having his magic being so stretched he was in much better shape than anyone else. He made ready to play catch. The force hit him like a ton of bricks and he grunted with the shear quantity of magic thrown at him. The people had given only a small piece to the circle. But with the loop firmly in place held there not only through the Altar but Megan it was like having a river get a sudden barrier. Megan pulled the magic through her but the altar stopped it going anywhere. Except back to Megan.

"Megan, I need you to try and reach out to me with your magic. Feed it to me. I can disperse it into the earth. Everyone will be a bit tired in the morning but it won't harm anyone." Megan nodded briefly and tried. My goodness she tried. He could see the effort she was putting in the tears of frustration running down her cheeks.

And Merlin realised midnight had arrived. The swirl of extra force gave Megan a boost and she finally, finally managed to send him the connection. But it had come just on the stroke. Just when the veil revealed itself.

That cold magic reached out and Merlin was desperate to contain it. He should have been able to, he had had eaons more practice with working around the deadening effect of the veil. But something about it was wrong. Something had happened to magnify it already and the extra undirected force unleashed by Megan's emotional outburst just seemed to have tipped the scales. The article on solar flares flashed for just a second across his mind, but didn't have the time to worry about it before the force redoubled. It was like a burning hurricane and Megan looked on cringing and horrified, huddled at its centre.

The rest of the druids had fled down the winding path of the tor. It was just Megan and himself now and Emrys though he might be, there were other forces at work here and he was having a hard time keeping a lid on it. He had to get Megan out of the eye of this storm. He needed her to go so he could dissipate this properly without damaging anything else.

Already he could see the tower shaking on its foundations. He focused on the terrified girl curled in the ring of destruction.

"Megan! Megan look at me." Her eye's shifted up slightly from the scorched ground.

"You have to crawl, I'm making a shield like a tunnel but it has to be connected to me. Go through my legs and run Megan." He knew she could hear him as her eyes widened slightly before taking in his stance. His legs were planted a couple of feet apart as he held his glowing hands in the air holding the forces of nature somewhat at bay for now. She looked at the gap and shook her head slightly. Merlin's nose started to itch and he just knew he would have a nosebleed before he was through.

"Megan you have to go. I can't do anything until your safe. If you don't hurry it will get worse. Crawl through my legs, get up and run, don't look back. Please. I can't hold this much longer. Go!" It may have been the pleading or the command or even just the fact she was reacting to the massive power he was wielding, he didn't especially care at this point, she just moved, she had listened for once and he breathed a small sigh of relief.

She crawled through the arch made by his limbs as quickly as the sodden material of her dress allowed. The moment she cleared them and he had counted to a grand total of twenty, praying it was enough time for her to get as far as possible. He released the maelstrom.

It howled. And he wondered just what the people at the base of the hill might see if they were to look above. No! The sound, oh gods he remembered that sound. The high wailing of the Dorocha. This could not be happening. But no there was no tear and his magic was still responding as it should. The barrier still held, he could see it as a white flowing shape flew at it and…bounced, as if running into a sheet of glass. But it shimmered as if paper thin and it seemed as if just one small push could damage it irreparably.

Merlin tried to redirect the magic. Tried to strengthen the wall between the worlds but the power just slid away not finding any purchase and the howling grew steadily worse. There had to be a way. Had to be something he could do. How the hell had the petrified, panic attack of a teenager done so much damage? There had to be something else. Something interfering, but Merlin couldn't think. He was losing his grip, and he couldn't afford to. Not if it meant the Dorocha once again being loose. He had to think of something.

And then a flutter of black at the edge of his vision. A pale hand, and a visage more ancient than even Merlin's own. He hadn't seen this figure in centuries, and he had no wish to see her now, unless she came with a solution?

"Help me!" She looked at him with those sad and empty eyes. With pity almost.

"There is always a price Emrys!" A blinding flash and Merlin stumbled forward shielding his sight. As abruptly as the wind had started, it stopped and the silence it left was deafening. Still with his eyes closed he gave a sigh of relief, the druids were safe. Only to stiffen in utter shock as a voice he had not heard since Camelot shattered his reprieve.

"Merlin?"

His eyes shot open.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N I know I know this is a lot smaller than the previous one. In my defence I couldn't see any natural break I could use in the last one otherwise it would have been in two. This however has to end where it does. And yes you might hate me for it but I don't regret it for a second. Who doesn't like a good cliffie!?**

* * *

Keys to the past.

Chapter 5.

He stood there gaping for minutes, his mind unable to process anything.

There were people that could not have been there. And a room equally as incongruous, Gaius's room. With a blanket laying in a discarded puddle on the floor by his stockinged…? feet. Merlin shivered involuntarily in what he now saw were his old sleepwear from his days of servitude. Wha…this made no sense!

"Merlin. Are you alright? Everyone was rather worried when you collapsed. Are you still cold?"

"No! No! This is not happening! You died! You died in my arms, you're all dead!" Merlin backed away eyes wild. He blinked rapidly trying to clear his vision. They were still there. Gwen, Gwaine, Gaius even Lancelot, so this nightmare? Hallucination? Must be from some period before he died for the first time. But that wasn't right they shouldn't be here at all or rather Merlin shouldn't. 1500 years he had waited for Arthur to rise again and he still hadn't come 1100 years since Camelot had finally succumbed to war with another kingdom. Arthur's last descendent falling in that great battle, Merlin at his side, supposedly as Merlin's however many greats grandson. This must be a fever dream brought on by the stresses of his latest magical battle. "This isn't real. You aren't here. Camelot's gone, dead and buried centuries ago and I'm still waiting. This is a dream or stress or I've finally lost it and I'm in a mental hospital somewhere pumped full of drugs in a rubber room." He was shaking his head still backing up as his friends looked on with incredulity at Merlin's bizarre and quite frankly disturbing words. His ankles hit the first of the stairs up to what would have been his bedroom back in Camelot's age though there really shouldn't have been anything there, the plain on the top of the tor empty but for the tower and the grass. The shock of hitting the stairs overbalanced Merlin and he sat heavily, banging his back against the rest of the short staircase. He couldn't help the cry that escaped at the brief pain.

Gaius made a move towards him but Merlin hastily backed away in fear raising his hand as he did so. The warning in the gesture obvious, he would use magic if he had to. Gaius saw it, as did Lancelot and both widened their eyes in disbelief, knowing the implications of such a move on Merlin's part.

"Merlin? Merlin what…?"

"No you aren't Gaius! You can't be." His voice was scared, pleading, world weary and defeated. "This isn't real! I failed and this is…I'm not here!

"Merlin mate that must have been one hell of a nightmare!" Merlin ignored him as he disregarded Gwen's cries of distress, and just placed his head in his hands, rubbing his eye sockets too hard in the hope it would pull him out of this delusional fantasy. There must have been some flying debris in that storm and he'd knocked himself out and this was the result.

Merlin tuned everyone out muttering all the while, that he would wake up soon, have a painkiller and call David in to look after Megan, then take off for the nearest A and E since a concussion and this whole situation had just been giving him too much to deal with and it was manifesting as waking dreams.

The words made no sense to anyone, and Gaius was becoming increasingly worried. Had his ward hit his head at the feast? The ramblings about being concussed certainly pointed to it. Was that was the reason he had passed out in the first place? He had been concerned when there had been no explanation as to what had happened. He had hoped his ward would be able to tell him when he had regained consciousness but this was very wrong. Merlin was acting so strangely, the nonsense he was spouting not making any sense. Some coming too close to magical mutterings for comfort.

He turned to the others making sure to include Lancelot in his gaze too. "I don't know what is wrong but it is obviously causing Merlin stress for you all to be here. Could you give me some time to find out what is behind this? I think it best if I alone deal with him for now." No-one could really argue with Gaius's words, though Gwaine looked like he might try on principle. The irrefutable evidence staring them in the face as Merlin had by now completely hidden his head in his arms, rocking back and forth slightly on the stairs. In truth they had never seen Merlin act in such a way. Never had they seen him lose control to such a degree. If Gaius believed it best for them to remove themselves then they needed to do so.

Lancelot took Gwen's hand and gave it a small squeeze and a reassuring glance then tugged her gently from the room.

Merlin remained oblivious. He had started to shake, still muttering even as Gaius walked back to his side, lowering himself so he knelt painfully on the floor next to him. His aching aged joints protesting all the while.

"Merlin my boy. What is it? What is wrong?" Merlin didn't answer so Gaius took him in his frail arms putting his head on his shoulder as he started to sob. "It's alright Merlin. I'm here. We'll get through this."

Merlin's thoughts were chaotic. How long had it been since he had been held like this? How many times over the long, long years had he wished to be held thus by his father figure just one last time? Right now, even though he knew it was an illusion, or a dream or a vision of the past come to haunt him in his vulnerable moment that would fade as smoke come morning, he really didn't care. He took the comfort given and just cried harder, all the years of lonely wandering having taken their toll, and leaving him a wreck of his former self.

* * *

Sounds filtered slowly into his fuzzy consciousness. He felt soft and heavy and not quite there. He remembered this feeling, Morphine did this to a person. Was he actually in hospital then? Just how badly had he been injured if they had him on the loopy juice. It was taking so long for his thoughts to register. But he felt a stinging ache behind his eyes as if he had cried heavily and very recently. And there was something at the edge of his mind just begging to be acknowledged. Something important and very, very wrong. If only he could remember? But no the thought was gone and the bed felt so comfy and warm he would just stay here for a bit.

"What's wrong with him? Gwen said he was shouting nonsense."

"I don't know sire. I've never seen him like that before. He said something about a head injury but there is nothing there. He was being run ragged before the feast. You know what it's like for the servants sire, it could just be exhaustion." A pause "I've given him a sedative. We'll see what happens when he wakes."

"Is that wise if he's hit his head?"

"Truthfully I don't believe he has done anything. I've checked every inch of his scalp. There are no cuts, bruises or lumps anywhere at all. He was extremely distressed about something, though I couldn't get anything out of him as to what it might be. It seemed a safer option to give it to him and allow him a little peace than for him to carry on at the same level of trauma."

He knew those voices from somewhere didn't he? But they were part of the wrongness. The language. What was it about the language? He grimaced unconsciously, made a sound of protest.

"Gaius is he…?"

"Probably dreaming sire. He may not wake for another hour at least."

There were muffled footsteps and he thought they had gone. Until he felt hands pulling at the blankets and settling them further up on his shoulder.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with you? It would have been better to tell me you were too tired to serve than collapse in the middle of my speech."

Serve? Merlin hadn't served anyone since…but no it couldn't be it had to mean something else. And that voice. He must be mixing that up with someone else's since Arthur Pendragon had not existed for centuries. He couldn't recall anyone else though with that distinctive tone so who?

He attempted to ask but only managed a groan, and his effort to open his eyes met with even less success.

More footsteps moving away and quiet words too low for him to make out. He just felt so heavy. Why had they weighed him down? The blankets seemed like they were now smothering him. He had to get out. Please let him get out!

His endeavours to make his hands move just left his fingers twitching rather than doing anything useful. His heart sped up in panic as his sluggish thoughts just kept screaming trapped! Why couldn't he move?

He never noticed the owners of the voices returning, or hear his name being called in such a way as it hadn't in over a millennia. He was just lost in his battle for control over his uncooperative limbs. He also never noticed as he started to mumble his internal struggle. His slack lips not able to form the words fully enough to understand, they came out as a jumble of moans and whimpers.

The fog was clearing slowly, very slowly. What the hell kind of drug had he been given? And for that matter just where was he? He knew the smell of hospitals. That slight tang of disinfectant could never be disguised and quite frankly this place smelled nothing like. There was a distinct herby tang he would get whenever he opened his spice cupboard at home, but no sign of the usual chemical cleaners. Nor was there any of the beeping he might expect if he had been injured badly enough for hospitalisation. Was he even still in Glastonbury? He could do with the reassuring presence of David right now, hell he'd even settle for Megan. Even if it was just to encourage him in the mammoth effort of opening his gods damned eyelids.

"Merlin?"

"Memmmf."

"Is that pain or is he waking up? I can't tell." A cool couple of fingers at his pulse point.

"His heart rate has increased, so I would say it's either a nightmare or he's waking. Merlin could practically hear the shrug in that. He redoubled the force on his lead lined lids and managed a flutter. Ha! He would beat whatever the hell they had given him and he would see just who it was he was dealing with since he was now utterly convinced these people were nothing to do with the A and E department or even any medical department at all. Move, move, move! The lids sprang up like roller blinds yanked too hard and sunlight hit his irises, tearing them and making them sting. He winced mightily but there was no way he was shutting them again with the effort it took to open them in the first place and just waited for his vision to clear.

The blurry shapes resolved themselves eventually into a room not flooded with sunlight as he had first suspected, but rather only softly lit by candlelight. Had they had a power cut? And then the rest of his mind caught up and the people came into focus and his heart stuttered once again.

"A'thr?"

"Yeah it's me idiot. What did you do to yourself this time?"

"Yo…You came back? Oh gods Arthur you came back!"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Right this has been re-written to death. I could not wrestle it into submission. Possibly due to the distraction of having to make all the costumes for my son's school play. Munchkins and Ozzians, guardsmen and lions filled my head to such a degree that Merlin was temporarily dislodged (which until this point I believed was impossible. Still it was a wizard).**

 **And I don't own either of them.**

* * *

Keys to the past.

Chapter 6.

"What are you talking about _Mer_ lin? I haven't been anywhere except trying to keep the fuss your collapse caused at the Samhain feast to a minimum. Honestly you have a gift for picking the worst times to do things like this." The twinkle in Arthur's eye was Merlin guessed supposed to reassure him that he was enjoying the joke at Merlin's expense even as he was annoyed that it had ever happened.

Merlin didn't really take any notice, too busy looking at the extremely familiar visage of the once and future king and then beyond him at the too familiar room.

The strangled half sob that escaped him couldn't be helped. It was real? There were few things now that could upset the ancient Warlock to such a degree as he was feeling now. But even with all his vast experience of controlling his emotions this was a little hard to take in. How was this possible?

Arthur was supposed to **come** back not Merlin **go** back. The promise implied by Khilgarrah's words on the shores of Avalon were the only hope keeping him sane through all his many trials. If this had been the intended result surely the dragon would have warned him? Prepared him for the further heartbreak of having to relive his mistakes? Or perhaps that had been the dragons plan all along, keep him hoping keep him going so he would be forced to live his life in a circle.

Alright so perhaps that last thought didn't entirely make sense, since where would the point be in that? Merlin blamed it on the last of the drug sitting in his muddled system and apparently a 1500 year time jump.

But there had to be a reason for his being here. Unless the fates were just being unnecessarily cruel, which was entirely possible, and this had been an accident. Time travel had been a theory, unproven, unreliable and by most sensible physics laws unmanageable. The fact he was actually laying here debating the issue had proved it could be done but just by coming back, he may have created a paradox, may have changed everything. It made his brain hurt just thinking about it. The future he had lived before had perhaps been permanently altered already?

It was that thought, as Merlin lay there looking up dazedly at his king after realising that no Arthur had not in fact risen again, that Merlin was actually once again in Camelot's long razed walls, that made Merlin think. If the past Merlin knew had in fact been changed anyway without the entire space time continuum popping out of existence, what else might be different.

Arthur had mentioned a Samhain feast and Lancelot was here and alive along with Gwaine, which meant only one particular feast it could have been. The one, where Morgana sacrificed her sister in order to tear the veil. The one, where just less than a week later, Lancelot died.

"Oh god, the Dorocha!"

"What the hell is a Dorocha?" Gaius had visibly jumped at his exclamation but Arthur merely looked even more puzzled and exceedingly frustrated. Oh gods had Merlin said that out loud? The best thing would be to ignore it, but Merlin remembered that Arthur could be as tenacious as a dog with a bone when he was in the mood.

"Merlin?" He turned his face away, He couldn't deal with this right now. He was just numb. The small voice of the Doctor in him piped up recognising it as shock, urging him back to sleep. He wordlessly willed his magic to aid the remnants of whatever herb Gaius had dosed him with back to its full potency and felt his body relax. He needed sleep if he were to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now.

Arthur's increasingly irate call for an explanation followed him back into slumber. This was going to be an unforgiving experience he could tell.

* * *

"Merlin? Merlin?" Arthur's irritated sigh as he realised his servant had fallen unconscious once again was typical of the man. Merlin had not been in his right mind. That much had been obvious. But as he turned to Gaius to ask if there was anything to be done he took in the man's expression and halted. There was marked fear in the physicians eyes, even as he looked though it was carefully masked to show a neutrally blank visage. Something had shaken his usually stoic features.

It took a lot to shake the man, Arthur knew, but Merlin being hurt was one of them.

"What was that?" He gestured at the young man curled in the bed. Gaius just shook his head. "Come on you must have some theory as to why he's making even less sense than usual?"

"The valerian perhaps? He wasn't supposed to wake yet I can only assume he was only half asleep and dreaming still." Arthur just studied him. It was a fair rationalization but it didn't explain anything of that fleeting but profound fear. His servant had only uttered two exasperatingly inexplicable statements in the time he had been awake and only one of those couldn't be explained as idiocy. Gaius had recognised that word he was sure of it.

"Gaius? What the hell is a Dorocha?" The man startled, and Arthur realised he had hit the nail on the head. "Damn it Gaius I saw how afraid you were when he said the name so I ask you again what is a Dorocha?"

"They are the vengeful spirits of those that have passed. One touch and your dead. No-one survives their contact."

"And why pray would Merlin be babbling about them now? I know this was Samhain but I never thought Merlin of all people would believe in ghost stories. Or you for that matter."

"They are not just stories sire but I don't know how Merlin could have come across the name. There are not many now who would recognise it."

"But you are one of them?"

"I am and Merlin has never heard the name from me, though…" Gaius paled as he remembered the report from earlier in the day. Leon had brought word back of Morgana, travelling with possibly her wounded sister to the seas of Meredor. "The isle of the Blessed!" He turned in a flurry of deep blue robes and hurried as fast as he could with his aging bones to his library. "Gaius?" Arthur stepped down from the short staircase to Merlins room just as the Physicians hand closed around a thick, brown leather book, pulling it roughly from the shelf and raising a cloud of dust as he did so. "What is it?" Gaius ignored him searching frantically for the passages he knew were somewhere to the back of the book. "Damn it I can understand Merlin ignoring me, Lord knows I'm used to his being an idiot, but I would appreciate some sort of explanation at some point this evening!" Gaius's fingers stopped flipping pages and his visage became grimmer as he read.

"Gaius so help me…!"

"Sire, I think Merlin may have been attempting to find out what Morgana was trying to do."

"Morgana? From the patrol this morning?" Arthur's tone was sceptical. "Why would Merlin be looking into Morgana? It is for the knights to deal with. My uncle has already said he will send patrol's out at first light."

"Because Merlin recognised the name of the isle of the blessed as a place of Magic. I would assume he became suspicious, curious or possibly both." This was skating on rather thin ice and if Gaius was not careful might make the monarch question his ward's innocent young servant guise. But perhaps it wouldn't harm for Merlin to seem slightly more intelligent than Arthur usually saw him.

"You're telling me my bumbling fool of a servant decided to look into Morgana's activities merely because he knew the name of the place? I think you might be crediting him with too much brainpower Gaius. This is _Merlin_ we're talking about."

"Who happens to be my apprentice and not as stupid as you seem to believe. He's gullible yes, but not unintelligent." Arthur took a moment to study Gaius. The man thought the world of the boy. And though he was probably rather biased due to their close bond, he couldn't entirely dismiss those minute bouts of wisdom he displayed every now and again. "I'll have to take your word for it. Now what had you in such a frenzy about this isle?"

"The Dorocha sire are held away from this world by the veil. The barrier between the worlds. And tonight was Samhain, when the veil is at its thinnest. What if Morgana went to the isle, a place of great magical importance, to open it?"

"This is what Merlin was looking into?"

"I don't know but it makes sense. By all accounts Morgause was crippled in the reclamation of the city, Morgana loved her sister. They would have wanted revenge."

"By Bringing something through that would kill innocent people? How likely is this?"

"I don't know, until Merlin wakes fully I don't think we can jump to any conclusions but he was extremely distressed and…Morgana isn't the same girl she was. I'm not sure what lengths she would go to any more." Arthur turned to look at the door of Merlin's room, not entirely sure what to make of this development. He couldn't dismiss it so easily though. Morgana had been travelling towards the area, and though Leon and Elyan couldn't positively identify the person laid in the cart, Arthur had seen in their eyes they believed it to be Morgause.

"Fetch me when he wakes." He could do nothing right now, it was well after midnight and the servants would be up in just a couple of hours. He really needed to sleep.

"I will sire." As Arthur turned and made his way from the room, the tread of anxiety Gaius had felt for his ward at his collapse thrummed ever brighter. Merlin was so attuned to the magic of the world he could feel the disturbances created by such magic. The fact he collapsed at the exact stroke of midnight, the frigidness of his skin when Lancelot carried him to his room and then the almost delirious talk of death after he woke, confirmed the theory in the physicians mind. "Oh my boy, why couldn't you have told me?" Gaius checked his ward one last time noting that his colour and temperature were back to normal, and he was now sleeping peacefully, looking far too young. Then he sought his own bed for what little remained of the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Please don't kill me I know I am really cruel. My poor Merlin, but it has to be done. So sorry. Love you people who are sending such grand reviews. Oh I hope I can do as good a job on this as I want to since I still don't have any claim on Merlin.**

… **..**

Keys to the past.

Chapter 7

The sobbing could be heard all the way out on the shore where the boatman stood waiting patiently for his passengers. It was a thankless task being boatman for this isle. There used to be so many visitors when magic was in it's hey day. But as the purge progressed and more died or left there were fewer and fewer making the pilgrimage. He had wondered why he had kept doing it. Making such effort to be available for the old religion when he had no magic of his own and to be seen as a sympathiser was to sign his own death warrant. But every few months when the rites of the equinox's and solstice's would have normally been observed and the people would have in the past flocked to pay for his services, he came and sat in his empty boat and waited for the ghosts of his long lost customers.

It had been odd tonight. The two women commissioning his passage being the only two people he had seen all year. He had recognised the priestess, she had after all trained here under Nimueh, but she had clearly been deathly ill and he wondered if she had decided to take the risk of being caught for the chance of one last observance before her time came. By the sound of the sobbing he would be ferrying just one lady back. He bowed his head in respect for the dead and wondered if he should go and help.

Morgana knelt on the unforgiving stone, hunched over her sisters cooling body, not knowing what she was supposed to do now. The spell had not worked. Her power had left her as she had plunged the knife to the hilt in her sister's heart. She had felt it take effect the ripples flowing outward in ever widening circles only to halt and dissipate without doing anything. Her sister's last gift, wasted. The grief had hit her like a runaway horse. Mowing her down, caving her in. The tears had flowed unceasing since and Morgana could not make them stop. Her one true ally had left her, killed by her hand and for nothing.

The soft scrape of a boot on stone alerted her to someone approaching and she turned with the speed of a striking snake, hand outstretched ready to throw the intruder back only to see the boatman with a look of sympathy on his face.

"No need fer that lass, I saw she were sick. She gone then?" He could tell by the look on the young woman's face she was. The tear tracks streaking that porcelain skin were hard to miss. "I'm sorry lass. Do you need owt?" The unexpected and unlooked for sympathy tor a sob from her throat, and her hand lowered. "Here." The man unhooked his cloak and threw it round Morgana's shoulders where she stood impassive, shaking from the shock and the cold. He took a quick look at the priestess laid on the slab behind her and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of the dagger sticking out of her chest. "Best come away now lass. I doubt she'd want you to catch your death." Morgana looked at him puzzled at his reaction. She would have expected him to recoil at the sight of her sister having been killed in such a way. "Why aren't you running away screaming?"

"Doubt these old bones is up fer much runnin. Besides, she's not the only one as to have come here to die. First I've seen up close, but not the only one. I would imagine if she were in as much pain as she looked like. It would ha been a blessin to have gone so quick. Was a burden tho to have asked ye." Morgana nodded. She hadn't wanted it. Had not wanted to do as her sister had asked. Had wanted to keep her with her as long as she could. But she had been in such pain. She could not say no to helping her find peace and gain revenge on those who had harmed her. The revenge would have to wait, but the peace had at least been achieved. She looked down once more at her sisters' face, pale and blue tinged in death but smiling slightly as if sharing an amusing jest.

The shaking intensified as the realisation of just what she had done came to the fore and her knees buckled. The man caught her and held her steady as a fresh wave of tears flowed. "Easy lass. Do you have somewhere to stay?" She shook her head. No Morgana had not thought much beyond this act itself. There were supplies in the cart to make a camp, but without Morgause it seemed an impossible task to return to it.

"C'mon then y'ell come to my home. Don't look at me like that lass, I've no designs on ye person. As I've said afore she's not the first. And your not the only one as had need of help after." She relaxed marginally at the gruff reassurance and allowed him to guide her back to the waiting boat. She had looked after Morgause and been her sole carer for more than a year; it would be nice to be taken care of again.

…..

Merlin had woken just as the sun had risen over the horizon. The first faint rays sliding over his face from the achingly familiar window and tumbling him back into present reality.

Pinching his arm had been a childish gesture he knew but he had to reassure himself it was no dream. He really was back in Camelot. Gaius was sleeping just beyond the door and his first friends were all alive and running around the castle somewhere unaware of the turmoil Merlin had to endure yet again.

What had he ever done to make fate hate him so much? How much more was he expected to endure for his thrice damned destiny? He wished fervently and not for the first time that he had never set foot in Camelot all those years ago. Never taken those steps down to see the dragon. Never heard of the once and future king or Emrys.

He got out of his tiny bed, haphazardly throwing the blankets every which way and climbed on the table to see out of that window. The view of the lower town was just as he remembered. The sounds of the city waking all around him and oh gods the smells, Medieval England was not a pleasant place for a sensitive nose more used to the considerably more efficient and safer sewerage system of the 21st century. It would take some getting used to again. That is if he were supposed to stay here.

Just what was he supposed to do now?

This was for all intents and purposes, the Camelot of his long ago youth. But how or why he came to be here was a mystery and Merlin was torn as to weather he wanted to return to 21st century England where he now belonged or as the small voice inside him kept murmuring seductively, stay in this time where magic had been at its fullest, despite it being so dangerous. But he knew either way he couldn't stay here without bringing more pain. To watch for a second time as all his friends once again left him all alone. Just what was the point of it all?

He didn't fit anymore. Like a broken key he might go in the lock but couldn't turn, could only sit there uselessly, blocking the way. He was no longer a naïve serving boy, or even a sorcerer practiced in hiding. He was too used to being treated with respect. And love Arthur though he might, Merlin wouldn't take kindly to what he had put up with from the monarch now. This wasn't his time any longer.

…..

Arthur woke to the soft sounds of someone shuffling round his chambers trying not to make a sound. What on earth? Merlin was not a quiet soul and by now there would have been clattering, a few muffled curse words as he tried unsuccessfully to keep his feet under control and the rattling of cutlery as the tray was dumped on the table with a bump.

The prince opened his eyes to the dim light of a room whose curtains were not yet open; another occurrence which made it obvious Merlin was not the man sneaking round the room. And then Arthur saw the man's brown jacket. Now he was confused.

"Merlin?" The man turned and Arthur could see how he had been mistaken but this was not Merlin.

"Sire I am George. I will be your manservant until Merlin has recovered sire." The man gave a perfectly subservient bow and Arthur was thoroughly disconcerted at the man's choice of attire. He dressed just as Merlin did. Though the man was shorter and considerably older and had the air of a long standing retainer that just screamed at being a perfect servant, something Merlin would never be. He couldn't help the laugh that escaped.

George just looked enquiringly at the prince, were as Merlin would have demanded a share in the joke. The prince sobered at the thought of his servant. Evidently he was not recovered from whatever malady had struck him last night. Well ill or not there were the issues of the Dorocha to look into and just why had Merlin decided to take it upon himself to investigate in the first place.

…..

Merlin didn't know how long he had sat there on the edge of the small bed, gripping the frame and head bowed, staring at the cracks in the floorboards, before the door opened admitting Gaius into the cramped room.

"Merlin?"

"Gaius." He didn't turn to look he knew Gaius's visage as well as he knew his own.

He had been 93 when he died. Succumbing to one of the agues prevalent during the winter months. He had retired soon after Camlann giving the position of court physician over to Merlin until such time as the ban could be lifted fully and a new physician brought in. Merlin had become damned good at it, but Merlin's healing magic and medical knowledge had not been able to do anything for the man except manage his pain and ease his passing. Gaius's body had just been too old and tired to put up much of a fight. Merlin had thought himself becoming immune to the deaths of his friends. He had been wrong. Gwen, his wife, and 13 year old Llachau had had to physically pull him away at the end. It had been one of the worst days of his life to that point, barring the day he returned to Camelot and realised he had lost Arthur, Gwaine and Khilgarrah within hours of each other. His life from then on was one of loss after loss.

The bouts of happiness he found in the people who wormed their way into his heart, always overshadowed by the knowledge that such happiness was as brief as a candle flame in a stiff wind.

He had resigned himself to such a fate, had taken as much from each interaction as he could despite knowing they would leave him. But he knew this was worse than anything that had come before. He couldn't do this. Not again.

…..

" _Gaius."_ A world of hurt encompassed in just one word. What had happened to his ward? This was not the boy he knew. What had conspired in just one night to change his surrogate son from his happy upbeat self into this defeated looking man before him?

"Arthur will be here soon." There was no response he just sat there. "You mentioned the Dorocha last night. Is that why you collapsed? You felt the veil tear?" He had wanted some kind of reaction but the raw, naked fear held within, as Merlin turned to him abruptly sent goose bumps along his spine.

"I don't know." And he didn't, not any more, things were different. He would know it had been torn only if certain events played out as they had the first time. He wasn't sure he could face it if it had. If he had to see Lancelot sacrifice himself again and then see his noble reputation be shredded when his shade caused such havoc later on.

Gaius looked blankly at him It was unlike Merlin to not know something if it had affected his magic to such an extent.

Merlin saw the look and the curiosity but just how the hell was he supposed to explain this?

The door to Gaius's rooms opened before he could think of anything. The ache returning to Merlin's chest as his heart sped up at the voice of his king asking for the physician. He would have to face him. Talk to him without the cushioning effects of whatever sedative Gaius had dosed him with yesterday.

This would be agony, but he had to play along until he worked out exactly why he was here. He gathered every bit of strength and courage he possessed and made himself follow Gaius out of the room. He had become rather adept at becoming someone else. He had had to be. The only difference now was that he was far too emotionally involved, he wasn't entirely sure he could be convincing.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Ok. Yeah. You probably will wish to skewer me so I'm hiding the sharp pointy objects…and the blunt weaponry you might decide to bludgeon me with and anything else I can think of that might be dangerous to my health and well being. Hhhhmmmm perhaps you should read this in a void? Yeah that would work!**

 **I don't own Merlin and at the moment I'm quite glad since I can't see him being happy with me either.**

… **..**

Keys to the past.

Chapter 8.

"Gaius I'm guessing Merlin is still not well since another servant has been sent to fill his duties while he's recovering but I need to know just what he was raving about last evening. If he's awake I…Merlin?"

"I'm awake." It took every once of self possession not to turn tail and run back to his room. Merlin had never really considered himself a coward before, but this was testing even his vast limit.

There stood Arthur just as he remembered, if a trifle younger than when he lay unmoving on the shores of Avalon. Alive, heart beating strongly and not choking out a heartfelt but pain filled thanks as he breathed his last. His own heart beat a little faster and his own breathing became a little more ragged. He couldn't muster a smile.

"I can see why Gaius didn't send you back to work yet. One look at your face and the maids would have run screaming believing you to be a ghost. You look terrible." It would have started a round of banter, back when he still had his friend. Back when life was simpler despite having a destiny that meant protecting this man.

"Feel terrible." All Merlin could manage was the truth. Arthur would recognise it as such from his lack of humour he hoped and not take anything else he said too much amiss. Eidetic memory or not it would be hard to sift through the recollections and work out precisely how to act. Until then, if he thought him ill enough not to be his normal self, he might just shrug off any inconsistencies. Gaius might not but he would cross that bridge if and when he came to it.

Arthur looked taken aback as if he hadn't expected him to admit it, and then he frowned eyeing him up and down. "You'd best sit then, before you fall down and make us clean an even greater mess." They perched on the stools at the small table Merlin and Gaius had always used to eat at and a wave of nostalgia rolled over him remembering some of the conversations this table had been witness to. He ran his hand lovingly over the edge closest to him lost in the memories until Arthur forcibly cleared his throat and brought him back. "Your wits are a begging today Merlin."

"Sorry." Gaius **and** Arthur were looking at him in concern now. This was proving more difficult than he had expected. And he hadn't thought it would be easy to start with.

"Just try and focus _Mer_ lin. I need to know just what you thought you were doing looking into the activities of Morgana and what you found out."

It took Merlin a long while to work out just what Arthur was asking. Enough time in fact that Arthur became impatient with him once again. "Gaius thinks you were suspicious of Morgana going to the seas of Meredor? Said you had a hunch she was going to the isle of the blessed? And possibly do something to the veil?"

Merlin closed his eyes. Another discrepancy. Athur hadn't known anything until later after the girl Dreya? appeared with her tales of moving shadows, devouring all in their path. It was midmorning now and she had turned up just after dawn before. There had been no word of any messengers or attacks or anything. Was that good news or bad? The difference might mean she didn't survive this time. Perhaps someone else had, or no-one, or there was nothing there, or she would turn up later. He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was torturous to know the future he had already lived and see such similarities but not be able to act. It would all have to be couched in the vaguest of terms. But he held such knowledge of magic that he hadn't held then and with that Gaius **would** become suspicious.

"I think Morgana went to kill her sister. She was badly wounded in the battle and I believe she intended to use her as a sacrifice to open the veil. It's at it's thinnest at Samhain and Morgana and Morgause would know that. They might want vengeance for the wounds inflicted on Morgause. Or it could be that they just went to observe the rites, or Morgause just wanted to go somewhere important in the old religion to die. I don't know."

"That isn't helpful, Merlin." No it wasn't but even if he knew the truth it wouldn't help. What the hell could he say after all? Even if he could tell him the truth, they wouldn't believe him. And if by some miracle they did believe him nothing would change, he still couldn't save them. What exactly was this supposed to prove?

"I know that, but it's all I can offer."

"And just what the hell possessed you to go snooping in the first place. This isn't really your field of expertise. You should have just left it to Gaius, to us. Tell us next time instead of going in half baked, exhausting yourself on some flimsy pretext and leaving everyone else to clear up the consequences." That…was harsher than he had ever seen the prince. And entirely unfair, even if it had been true which it wasn't, hadn't been…it was giving him a headache again. Too many years being treated equally, of not being questioned when his instincts started screaming at him, of being confident in his abilities, instead of a second class citizen came to the fore and his heated words made the prince blink as he stood abruptly.

"And of course you know all about **magic** sire! You wouldn't know where to start. You sit there safe in the knowledge your sword skills will defeat any foe. Bring you through any situation. But they won't and you're too blind to see it. Will remain too blind until it kills you! I'm not an idiot, or stupid or useless." It was more bitter than he could ever remember being before in Camelot. And he wondered how long it would take for the guardsmen to arrive. Arthur's pride had never stood for hearing painful truths and in this time he held all the cards.

"Merlin!" Gaius's shocked exclamation was expected. How many times had he admonished caution in his formative years? But just what could they do to him after all. Kill him? He would welcome it, if it were possible.

True to form Arthur's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I would suggest you get yourself under control Merlin. I will overlook the insolence this once since I know your ill and not entirely in full possession of your faculties. But think carefully before you speak again. I won't forgive it a second time."

The roles of peasants were as the bedrock on which Camelot as a kingdom was built. But like that rock it was constantly walked on and tramped down and overlooked as unimportant. Even in Arthur's progressive court, where he had eventually treated every man well, there were still clearly defined class barriers. Ones Merlin simply couldn't cross. He had been able to bend them on occasion but it depended on Arthur's mood and Merlin had known at the time how far he could push. He **had** been happy to be Arthur's servant.

Now he couldn't be sure. He remembered everything they had done together like it was yesterday. But he had lived so many, many more lives than just one and he had outgrown his servants garb. Arthur's last wish for him never to change, could not be fulfilled. It would have been impossible for his experiences not to change him in 1500 years.

He couldn't do this. He had thought he could. No matter that he was used to pretending, lying, deceiving, There was something about being here again that made it impossible.

If all those years of wandering had made him feel lonely, they were nothing to the ache he now felt. His secret magic from his first time here was a minor bump compared to this. And Merlin knew if he were to stay he would lose everything he ever was. He would find some other way to find out why he was here. The timeline had already fractured what matter if he shattered it further. He was done, a hollow shell. Fate would reveal what it needed of him in time it always did.

So even as Arthur sat there contemplating his supposed manservant with a great deal of confusion, anger and ill concealed concern, Merlin blurted out the two words he never thought he would ever entertain, in a language as rusty and old as he now felt.

"I Quit!"


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N Thank you to Anthi35 sorry I couldn't send you a private message. Yes he will be explaining things possibly, maybe, or maybe not. It's Merlin he never really explains anything to the guys now does he? I'm thinking Future Merlin would be even more reticent than usual, except with a certain someone .**

 **I don't own anyone from Camelot or the surrounding countryside except those who did not appear in the show.**

…..

Keys to the past.

Chapter 9.

"Right that's it!" Arthur launched himself at the clearly deranged servant, grabbed him round the waist and used the momentum gained from the tackle to carry him protesting back up the stairs to his room.

"Sire!" The old man had followed him? Good it would prevent the need to shout.

"Let me **go** Arthur!" The prince gave the struggling warlock a glower, holding him down on his thin pallet. Merlin cursed the lack of muscle mass he had worked hard for over the years that had somehow disappeared along with his 21st century clothing on transport to this time.

"Stay there! Gaius examine him thoroughly there must be something you missed earlier. He isn't himself."

"Will you stop talking about me as if I'm not here! Are you so arrogant you'd believe there has to be something wrong with me rather than quit serving you of my own accord? There is more to life than Prince bloody Arthur!" Well there was, but not what the prince thought. He matched Arthur's expression glare for glare. Gaius looking between. There was something so, so wrong here. Merlin and Arthur had bantered and insulted each other since they met, but they were always tempered with the teasing note of friendship and brotherhood that had deepened year upon year.

Since the feast though where Merlin had just dropped like a stone, cold, pale and shaking fit to burst. It was as if he had been replaced, changed overnight. Arthur was right this was not his ward's usual self. His words were biting, cutting. They held a pain so vast the whole of Camelot would be hard pressed to contain it. He held himself differently, more confidently and yet there was also a hesitance there that was as surprising as it was contradictory. The most telling thing though was that Merlin would rather die than abandon Arthur, or his destiny, and he had in effect just sincerely quit. Over a stupid statement that he would have laughed off not 24 hrs before. It was the most worrying thing he had ever witnessed.

"Have you been enchanted? Because this…" the hand gesture took in all of him. "…this isn't you!" Bloody typical, magic gets the blame yet again.

"Are you actually serious right now? Enchanted? I don't think so, more like _**dis**_ enchanted. I want out. Is that so hard to believe, that I don't want to be here? That I might want something other than the scraps you throw my way?" Merlin resumed his struggling. He couldn't stay.

Arthur looked at him one last time, one moment for the coin to drop and leave him gasping from the sucker punch. Merlin was actually deadly serious. He stumbled backwards letting go abruptly. Face a picture of hurt and bafflement. Merlin had been happy yesterday morning. Teasing, grinning, he looked at him now face a study in despair and anger and was thrown for a loop.

"What happened to you?"

"Life happened Arthur. No more no less." And he walked away, down the stairs and out of the physicians door. No jacket, no ridiculous neckerchief, but with the proud bearing of a noble. The mystifying response giving no real answers. The prince made to leave to hurry after him, but Gaius's gentle hand held him fast.

"Arthur. I can't profess to know what's going on but please leave him. Let him cool down sire please? He will come back." Arthur looked down at the hand holding him in place, and then up at the old physicians face. Gaius released his grip.

"Are you so sure of that?" Gaius wasn't actually. He had never seen his ward like this. All he could do was hope. But that trepidation, the fear that Merlin had done something irrevocable showed and Arthur could see it.

"I'm going after him. He is not himself. That is not the Merlin we know and he could get hurt." Arthur turned once more to the door but paused on the threshold. "I will bring him back. Gods know he's trailed after me enough especially when I didn't want him."

"Be careful." The words were quiet and said to an empty room as the prince had already disappeared. And it was rather unclear as to whether Gaius meant them for the prince, his ward, or both.

…..

The old boatman had been true to his word, bringing Morgana back to his hut, making her sit and eat a bowl of thick vegetable stew that tasted strongly of wild garlic and giving over his thin straw pallet for her to sleep on. He had treated her like a lost child and Morgana had submitted in something of a daze. Later she would wonder at herself. Her upbringing and the power she had gained over the last two years meant she was far from meek and biddable, not that she ever had been to start with, and made her reaction to the man just taking over her care and wellbeing, and Morgana timidly allowing it, all the more puzzling.

She hadn't thought she would sleep. Thought the events of Samhain night prodding her conscience would prevent her from finding any respite either with dreams or visions. But at some point during that night she must have drifted off, because there was light behind her eyelids and the unmistakeable muffled sounds of something being carefully placed, the scrape of something heavy being moved across the hard packed dirt floor and the dull clanging of a spoon or other implement against the side of a pot when her awareness returned.

She didn't want to wake. To be part of a world without her sister in it, without her anchor. The tears came again without her bidding. Was it a weakness to cry?

She must have made some noise, quiet though she had tried to be, as the old man came and thrust a bowl of the same garlicky stew as yesterday at her.

"Is no shame in weepin' for ya loved ones lass. Is better to let it out. I could tell she were important to ya." Morgana turned away from the food. How could she think of eating when her stomach was in knots? "Lass. Ye'll do yerself no good by not eatin'. Do ya think yer friend would'ha thanked ye fer not takin care o yerself?" He placed the bowl on the stool at the side of the lumpy pallet and helped her to sit as if she were an invalid after a long illness. Perhaps she was. Only an emotional rather than a physical one. She felt every struggle of the past couple of years. Every fear, every bit of damage done by those who professed to love her, including the latest act by Morgause, it left her dizzy, disoriented and lost.

And now her one means of emotional support had gone. Killed by her own hand no less. What was she to do now? Their plan for revenge had fallen through and Morgana was still baffled by the failure. Had she done something wrong with the spell? Morgause had tutored her extensively for the past two months for this ritual and she had believed it had been executed perfectly. But it had still faltered and Morgana rather thought it was all down to her inexperience as a priestess or perhaps just her natural squeamishness from the sacrifice being her own flesh and blood. In any case Morgause' sacrifice had been in vain and Morgana was no closer to the throne of Camelot than before.

Her only link to the citadel of her birthright being Arthur's uncle and Morgana was at a loss as to precisely why he would wish his nephew harm. Supposedly He was there to avenge his sister's death just as his older brother had tried to do before. But even to her own ears it was a pathetically feeble excuse. Why now? Was he such a coward he would take it out of his nephews hide because he couldn't stomach facing a fully functioning Uther? For all intents and purposes Arthur was Agravaine's last link to his long dead sister, it made no sense that he would wish him dead. No matter, his reasons whatever they may be, would serve her purpose. Though she had as yet to work out precisely what that was. Camelot would have to be brought to its knees some other way, and for that she had to regain her strength.

…..

The woods were quiet, peaceful in a way they hadn't been in the 21st century. Even Sherwood forest was too thin, too touristy to be considered at all peaceful. There were always planes flying overhead or traffic running along the roads. Campers and caravan crazy families, and day tripping picnickers. Not like here. Here where technology hadn't yet intruded, and wouldn't for well over a millennium. How long had it been since he could take such a walk with only birds for company? Or sit perfectly still on a grassy bank to watch the deer walk by. To send his magic into the soil and have it zing as it returned instead of leaving him feeling sluggish. Merlin hadn't been able to commune with the land like this in so long. He had almost forgotten what it felt like.

The earth was so vibrant here, so full and bright and vivid. England of 2014 felt smothered. As if it were covered in a thick blanketing fog. A poison that had crept over the land so gradually Merlin hadn't even realised it until now when he could see and feel the contrast so clearly, surely it was the work of pollution. All those harmful chemicals pumped into the air and dirt in the name of progress. He had hated it but had once again been unable to do anything to stop it. It had seemed to be his lot in life being given impossible roles to fill.

Was that one of the reasons he had been brought here? It seemed a little much just to get him to realise the differences. He had already known there was something wrong he just hadn't known how badly. He would figure it out, his purpose for being in Camelot again. If there was one thing he was almost positive on was that he had a feeling it wouldn't be for the same purpose as the last time. Unless this is what that old seer, the Vates had meant when he showed him the vision of Mordred. Could this be the 'never ending circle of his fate'? He certainly hoped not. Unless it was an exercise in driving him stark raving mad it wouldn't achieve anything.

Right now there was only one being he wanted to talk to. One creature as ancient as himself who might possibly be able to understand and give him some insight no matter that the trust he had felt for him was dented at the very least. He hadn't felt the connection to Khilgarrah since that fateful day. It was after Arthur had been laid in the boat and Merlin had succumbed to an uneasy sleep knowing Gwen would need him and he would have to face her the next day that Merlin had felt the bond snap. It had forced him from his troubled dreams and he had woken with a yell knowing the dragon had died. He hadn't slept again that night. Had decided to walk home, creating balls of light to aid his way. Camelot had never felt so unwelcoming. Gwen had almost collapsed then and there on the steps without him having to utter a word. It was Leon who had broken the news of Gwaine and that had been it for the warlock too. He had been unconscious from a combination of shock, magical exhaustion and emotional anguish for a week. He had come to after Gwen's acknowledgement of sovereignty. A world where he had no real place, since his destiny had been at Arthur's side and he was no longer there. No Gwaine, no Arthur and no Khilgarrah. He had been a wreck.

Now he had a chance to see him again. The bond fluttering beneath his skin, as if it didn't know whether it was supposed to be there or not. It would suffice for what he wanted. To talk, to find an explanation, but the faith he had in the dragon's judgement was shattered. He needed to find out if he had known just where it was headed. What his supposedly great destiny was leading to.

" _ **O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"**_ It felt so strange to call out in the dragon tongue again. He hadn't done so for over three hundred years. Not since Aithusa had gone to his final rest as the last dragon. Merlin had missed that connection. Aithusa had stayed with him the longest. Well over a thousand years of companionship but even he had left him in the end. And Aithusa was not even hatched yet in this time frame.

Perhaps there he might be able to save him. The white dragon had been a broken shell after Camlann. They both had. Merlin had made it his mission to bring him back from the edge, heal him as much as was possible and keep him from further harm. He never had recovered fully. Always weaker than he should have been, his growth stunted. But with love, care and a great deal of time the dragon had regained some semblance of a normal life, as had the warlock. If he were to be stuck here again he would do better. Not leave him at the mercy of a power hungry warlord, stuck down a pit with a madwoman and unable to call for help.

The wing beats could be heard long before Merlin saw him, sounding powerful and free. A sound he had never thought to hear again. He closed his eyes and just stood savouring the wind picked up in the wake of those great wings.

"Ah young warlock what is it you require of me now?" Well that answered at least one question. Unless Khilgarrah was playing some deep game he didn't know the rules to, he had no clue he had travelled back. He had answered just as he recalled him doing before. Annoyed at being interrupted in the middle of whatever he did all day to respond to his shout. Calling him 'young warlock' as if Merlin weren't half a millennia older than he was. It struck him as funny all of a sudden. His slightly hysterical laughter echoing round the vast space of the clearing. The dragon looked a little puzzled. Certainly Merlin had usually needed him in times of great stress before and never given him this reaction even if it had been a mere social call.

"Have I missed something? Or has another troll wormed her way into the king's good graces?" The laughter died and Merlin looked up at him.

"It's good to see you again. I've missed you. I don't think I realised just how much."

"You saw me only a few days ago Merlin." There was an air about the warlock that was desperate and the sadness he sensed coming off him in waves seemed extreme for the small amount of time they had been apart.

"No. It's been longer than that. So much longer. You can't really call me young warlock any longer Khilgarrah. I do believe I'm older than you are." It was a statement almost as cryptic as those he gave to Merlin to make the boy think, and curious.

"Merlin?"

"I always have been, and always will be. It's what Emrys means after all. Time has moved on since I knew you old friend, but the circle was completed long ago and I should not have come back. I need to know why I have." For perhaps the first time in the Dragon's existence he was well and truly stumped.

"What do you mean?" Of course from the clues he had a fair idea of what it meant but he had never heard of anyone venturing back through time itself and he needed clarification.

"Camlann was 1500 years ago Khilgarrah. So why am I here?" It was rare for a dragon to be so unnerved but Emrys looked and sounded more dangerous than he had ever beheld. The boy was a boy no longer. And looking closer he beheld Merlin's magic. Vast and more ancient than even his own. It could encompass worlds and it left him breathless.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N Um there isn't much I can say about this really except I do hope you like. It's really only a short bridging chapter, but essential none the less.**

 **...**

Keys to the past.

Chapter 10.

Where the hell had he gone?

He had been only minutes behind him and Arthur knew he could track anyone in the right conditions. Merlin had never been classed as stealthy. He had seen him walking across the courtyard toward the town gate just as his uncle had rounded the corner.

And though he had managed to throw off his uncle's solicitude it had been just enough to lose sight of the distinctive indigo shirt his manservant wore.

He had practically run after that. Spotting him every now and again through the shifting crowds around the market, striding down a side street, talking briefly to the guard on the gate and then out into the countryside. How had he moved so fast? Damn the protocols that said a prince should keep his dignity. This was entirely stupid having to come after his manservant in the first place. Merlin should know by now that he would only accept resignation of his post upon death. It's what Merlin had offered him after all.

No matter that it had been an entirely brainless thing for him to have said at the time, it had kept Arthur going through so many trials. Knowing there was one man out there at least that had so much faith in him, not the prince, but him, Arthur. It had made him feel like he was worth something more than just being heir to a kingdom. That he had value as a man. That he was worthy of true friendship, no matter that he would never openly admit it. It had been painful to see such a strong bond nearly at its breaking point and couldn't formulate any theory as to why it should have become so strained in so short a time.

What had happened? He needed to find his friend and figure out what was wrong, because a man did not just up and leave everything worthwhile in their life without any explanation at the drop of a hat. Now all he had to do was work out where he had hidden himself.

He stopped again sword out in case of sudden attack since despite multiple patrols and efforts to control them these woods swarmed with bandits and miscreants aplenty, even this close to the city.

All he could hear was the noise of birds and other small animals chittering in the trees, but the ground was slightly muddy from days of rain finally starting to dry out and the imprints of boots could be vaguely discerned here and there in the clear patches between the leaf litter. Well someone had passed through not too long ago.

And then the sounds of the forest quieted. An unnatural hush descended as if holding its breath, waiting. Until the unmistakeable sound of wing beats rent the air. Very large leathery wing beats that sent fear skittering up Arthur's throat and down his spine. Choking and paralysing him for agonising seconds. A sound he hadn't heard in nearly two years. He had thought they were dead. That he had killed the last. Obviously not. And the noise was heading in the direction of those footprints.

Arthur ran.

As noiselessly as he could. Hoping and praying he could be on time. Though what he thought he could do once he got there he had no clue. The last dragon he had fought had killed nine out of the dozen knights he had taken with him. And only Leon, Merlin, and himself had escaped serious injury. Though both he and Leon had been knocked out. It had been a standing joke that Merlin being the only one without armour had been the single survivor without a scratch. It was why they had started allowing Merlin on patrol with them. He was their lucky charm. It seemed his luck was about to run out. Arthur ran faster.

Until the sight of his manservant though the trees up ahead stopped him cold. He skidded in the mud and hoped the noise hadn't alerted the dragon of his presence. He couldn't see it from where he stood and hoped it didn't know Merlin was there. He wanted to try and collar his servant quietly and melt back into the bushes, make his way home and gather the necessary resources to kill it before it started going after the citizens. There was no way he would allow a repeat performance of last time.

…..

"How did this happen?"

"One of my pupils made a mistake, her magic spiralled out of control just on the stroke of midnight. There was something wrong with the veil. Then cailleach showed up told me there was a price and here I am."

"The cailleach? Mother winter. She is an aspect of the triple goddess."

"I know well who she is. I've had dealings with her before. I want to know why she would have sent me here. For what purpose? I did think you knew this might happen. That you knew what my destiny entailed. I'm glad to know you are as in the dark as I, and did not purposely keep this from me."

"I have always tried to help you, but no-one can see the future for a certainty. This is not something I have foreseen." The dragon was out of his depth and he knew it.

"But you knew that I was immortal?"

"It was a possibility though there were many theories on the interpretations of your name."

"You were right you know. About Morgana and Mordred. But it was as much my fault and yours as to what became of them." Merlin had been pacing restlessly but paused and looked up, at some far distant point in time. Pensive. "And Arthur."

"I am sorry Emrys."

"You haven't asked about Camlann. I take it you know the prophecy held by the Catha?"

"I do though only in the vaguest terms. I'm not entirely sure what you expect of me Emrys." Merlin narrowed his eyes at the dragon. He was being entirely too submissive. It wasn't like him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you so respectful before. What has gotten in to you?"

"As you say, you aren't the young warlock anymore. It is not often one gets to speak to the lord of all magic. What is it you want from me?"

"I don't entirely know. A sounding board? There is no-one here who could possibly understand except you. Even Aithusa is not an option." Khilgarrah started.

"Light of the sun. That is a name from the dragon tongue. Where did you encounter it?" Merlin waved him away lost in thought. This was getting frustrating and he wondered if Merlin had ever felt as perturbed with him as he now felt at the way this conversation was going. Emrys' thoughts seemed to be jumping all over the place. Not touching on anything for long enough to get a grasp of what he wanted.

…..

Back in the tree line Arthur Pendragon stood gaping rendered mute and immobile in shock.

He had moved forward fully intending to rescue his servant only to find he did not in fact need any rescue. The dragon was stood there compliant, relaxed. As Merlin strode up and down the clearing, **Talking** with the creature. And it was answering him! He could hear the rumble of voices but was too far away to distinguish exactly what was being said. Dragon's were intelligent? They were creatures of magic so it was entirely possible.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, the paralysis snapped. Rage consumed him. Had it enchanted Merlin? Is that why he had collapsed and was so different? This creature was controlling him? Or were they in league together? Since that dragon looked awfully familiar. As did the clearing when he took a closer look.

Had they been harbouring a murderous criminal all this time? Arthur had a hard time believing that. Merlin had been with him for a long time. Had never shown anything but loyalty and devotion. It was easier to believe that the dragon had recovered from the supposedly fatal wound and had come back for revenge (What did they know of dragon anatomy after all?) Using Merlin as a puppet rather than his being a traitor.

This would require some very delicate handling. And reinforcements.

As quietly as he could Arthur backed away, turned and made his way back to the city as fast as he could whilst maintaining the silence. One thought paramount. That Gaius would be devastated and the rest of the round table nearly as much.

At the Gate Arthur took one last look towards the forest, hating that he couldn't do anything just yet. The creature could hardly have an effective spy planted in their midst if he burned him to a crisp. They would rescue him. Come hell or high water they would get him back.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Um…yeah!**

 **I do not own Merlin I just like to play.**

… **..**

Keys to the past.

Chapter 11.

Arthur was halfway to Gaius's chamber before he came to a dead stop in the midst of the corridor. It caused a bit of fuss as people tried frantically to avoid him in the crush of the dinner time rush.

He couldn't tell him. Not yet. For all Arthur's courage on the fields of battle, his bravery somehow always failed him when it came to emotions. And he could not face the upheaval this would cause. Merlin was for all intents and purposes the man's son. Just what was he to say? He needed to figure out how deep the dragon's hold on him ran, see if they could break it themselves. And bring Gaius in as a last resort. How hard could it be to break an enchantment? Merlin had managed it when Vivian had come to call. If he could Arthur could.

Gaius's reprimand about the servant's intelligence had hit a nerve. If the man was supposedly so clever, why did he act such a fool? Truly his idiocy sometimes knew no bounds. It was all Arthur could do at times not to laugh uproariously at the notion of Merlin being at all academic. Yes Merlin could read and write, which was beyond most peasants and actually rather impressive considering his humble origins, but he was still a serf and unable to access the kind of education reserved for the noble classes. Surely Arthur had a better chance of figuring out what to do than the average servant. The rather small and shrill echo of Merlin's voice calling him a prideful and conceited ass that was bouncing round at the back of his skull was conveniently ignored.

Leon was at the other end of the hall. Walking this way, not seeing anything around him concentrating on the paperwork in his hand and trusting everyone else to move around him. So when Arthur grabbed him and unceremoniously dragged him into an intersection with slightly less traffic he could be forgiven for the slightly undignified squeak and his accelerated heart rate.

"Prince Arthur, Sire! What…?" Arthur put his hand over Sir Leon's mouth effectively shushing him. Looked around furtively and then pulled him into the nearest unoccupied room, whispering furiously.

"We have a problem and it's best if it's kept as quiet as possible!" Leon nodded and Arthur removed his hand.

"What do you need of me?"

"Merlin is enchanted or possessed. I'm not sure which but we have to find a solution."

"Merlin? Is possessed?"

"Or enchanted. Yes Leon I know how crazy that sounds but you heard the others when they came and told me how worried they were. Gaius and I have both spoken to him and it's as if he's a different person."

"Surely stress can do odd things?"

"He quit Leon! And said it in such a way as I've never heard from him, like he'd given up. Tell me if that's not normal?"

"Merlin Quit?" **Finally** he was getting through to the man!

"That isn't all." Arthur was pacing by now, a sure sign of the strain he was under. "I saw him, talking to the great dragon. The same great dragon we thought was dead."

That hit Leon like an icy bucket of water to the face on a very hot day. It left him gasping.

"You remember when Merlin told us what he'd seen. That I'd struck it by its heart, that it seemed like a mortal blow and it had flown off to die?"

"He said it had been flying drunkenly like it had no strength. We saw the blood on the ground Arthur, nothing grows on that patch anymore. That amount of blood spilled surely killed the creature. Are you certain it was the same one?"

"Not entirely. But it looked enough alike to be at least a very close relative. And what if it didn't die? If it has taken this long for it to heal, and plot it's revenge. Camelot is in danger but Merlin seems to have been caught in its grasp. The dragon was talking to him like he was an ally."

"Merlin doesn't strike me as the type to turn traitor."

"Exactly what I thought, at least, not willingly, so considering his behaviour since last night…"

"It's controlling him." Leon breathed out. "Sire surely Gaius is a better person to bring this to?" Arthur just gave him a look with one eyebrow raised.

Ah yes he could see his point. Merlin and Gaius were as close as two people could get. And Gaius was not exactly young.

…..

"You have a connection to magic that is very strong do you not? You can feel the currents and eddies in the flow around you?"

"I can."

"Did you feel a shift last night?"

"Just as much as I usually do when the rites are upon us."

"The veil never opened then." Merlin took a moment to contemplate the implications of that. Lancelot would not be a sacrifice. His eyes closed and he breathed a sigh. A small sob of relief escaped him. Just one before he became all business again.

"The timeline has changed. Was I supposed to change it? Is this what it's been leading to? Is it enough? Or will there be a fixed point? Gods maybe I should have taken that extra class in theoretical physics." He rubbed his eyes again and a random thought popped up and his brain fired off making connections. "Or maybe it has nothing to do with time!"

"If a person used Dark magic and a blood sacrifice to open the veil it would leave a mark would it not?"

"It would. The veil would never truly leave such a person, they would become connected."

"Enough to drive them mad? Murderous rages, insane paranoia?"

"Oh I would say so." The dragon looked at him shrewdly. "You have a theory?"

"I'm a side effect! That bloody woman! I am so tired of gods playing with my life! That's why she looked at me with such pity, the hag!" Truly the wrath of Emrys was a sight to behold and the dragon was rather glad he was not on the receiving end of it though who was, was yet to be disclosed.

"Was it all a dream or did I actually live it? Does it really matter anymore?" It was said almost musingly as if it were not really important just a random fact he wished to know.

"Merlin your magic is older than I am. You cannot gain such experience without living it."

"Khilgarrah I am quite sure a goddess can give me the assumption of a 1500 year existence and still have it only play out in a moment. Say a moment at midnight on Samhain eve? When Morgana and her sister seal the fate of a witch destined to kill all ties to the triple goddess and her priestesses? I do believe the cailleach is trying to save her soul and her last high priestess in the process. Is it true that a god or goddess is only as strong as those who follow? Those who worship?"

"It is."

"Huh! Magic diminishes after Arthur's death. Though it becomes legal it doesn't flourish. The earth is slowly poisoned. It's dying." He was almost running around the clearing theories running swiftly, taking flight. "She's lost her last true tie. The only ones left are the druid's who are persecuted so badly before, during and after the restoration that they drift away. She's losing them all! All her power. Why wait so long? For that matter why pursue Arthur's death in the first place. Unless the Disir acted without complete knowledge of her wishes? Their demands and declaration always struck me as rather manipulative."

The dragon was having a hard time trying to follow the convoluted thought processes. Not having any knowledge of those missing years. Though he did have some useful information on the parts he could make out.

"The Disir are the mouthpiece of the goddess true but they are also the mouthpiece of her High priestess."

"' _The never ending circle of his_ _fate_ '. Arthur, Morgana and I. Circles within circles within circles. It's a triskellion." Merlin stood eyes shining seeing as if for the first time and the faintest glimmer of hope shone through. "She made a mistake!" He laughed hysterical but still tinged with that hopeful joy. "And now she's trying to rectify it."

"To reverse time Merlin? It is not something done lightly. And to do it for one priestess?"

"She is the last though. All the agony she brought those last years Khilgarrah, she was so full of light, it was my fault it withered. I had wished before that I could undo all those mistakes. It seems I now have the opportunity to at least some of them."

"Be careful Emrys. The goddess especially in her aspect of crone is not a being to be trifled with. I'm not entirely sure this is all of it."

"No maybe not. But I'm as sure as I can be that it is some of it!"


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N A nice little bit of Morgana and Agravaine bonding! Of sorts!**

 **I do not have any legal or paper right to Merlin. But I like to think in my head he does.**

…..

Keys to the past

Chapter 12

Servants were to be seen and not heard.

They were not there to be fussed over, if they were ill they should just carry on without complaint or get someone else to take their duties, and of course there would be no pay whilst they took the time off. They could not be seen to mollycoddle people. Pay them for taking time off and they would start to abuse the system. It was after all the way of peasants to be untrustworthy. Their word not worth anything.

They were after all just servants and easily replaceable. It was an honour to serve the highest echelons of society and as such they should be grateful to be gaining a wage to do so. It was a tenet that Agravaine had stuck to had grown up knowing it was true and right and all that the world expected.

So for a crown prince regent to show such care and affection for a mere serving boy was practically unheard of in Agravaine's book. He snorted softly to himself, almost as unheard of as his affection and love of a former serving girl. Though at least she at least could offer companionship of a more base nature and was more understandable from the point of view of a young man in need of sowing his wild oats.

He couldn't understand his nephew at all. He had heard rumours of Uther being indisposed and had hotfooted it to Camelot to see what he could do about hurrying his demise and making himself indispensable to his last remaining family. Fed by vague reminiscences of a spoilt brat of a prince more inclined to follow his own misguided agenda than do anything for the good of an entire kingdom. And yet he had been surprised at his level of competence. Here was not the boy of his long ago memory, throwing a tantrum over a denied treat. He was still gullible and startlingly blind on occasion but they were traits that could be weeded out of him with experience. It was a rather large stick in the dam of his expectations. He needed him compliant and easily led.

He despised them. Uther and Arthur both had been responsible for the loss of his dearly beloved sister and of countless friends who's only crime had been to be a little more than usually conversant in magic. Though he did concede that the boy hadn't been entirely to blame, it was not enough to foster any real family feeling in him.

He had met the boy only a couple of times in his lifetime and he had not been impressed. It had seemed such an easy thing to worm his way into Arthur's affections, gain his trust and as much standing he could get for the time being. All so when the time came he could be at Arthur's right hand. One of the most powerful men in the most powerful realm in all Albion. He didn't have to like him after all, merely agree with him. He was so starved for familial affection he lapped up every drop of his false solicitude.

That soon went down the pan though once Morgause and her enchanting sister showed up. Morgana was exquisite. It would be so much better to be wed to the person on the throne than a mere uncle. And of course accidents could happen at any time, even to priestesses conversant in magic.

…..

"So what exactly are we going to do about Merlin?"

"We need to follow him. Find out what he's been told to do. Figure out which it is possession or enchantment and then a way to break it."

"And without Gaius?" Leon's disbelief was starkly apparent. Yes it would be a hard slog without the physician's expertise.

"We'll get Geoffrey in on it. He has a memory for books like none I've ever seen, even Gaius. Surely he will have some clue where to look, though we are not telling him everything. There are too many in the court that would see this in completely the wrong light. We must protect him as much as we are able."

"I do agree there are those who would see just the magic and not that Merlin is the victim but…just the two of us? I don't mean to sound negative but you placed me in charge of the knights and you are regent, we both have duties."

"I think the less people know about this the better...but you are right about the time element." Frustrated, Arthur sighed loudly. And then clicked his fingers sharply. "Gwaine! And Lancelot they would do it, for Merlin. Gwaine wouldn't be missed most people would assume he's just either in the tavern or on patrol. And Lancelot does a lot of special duties for me, I'm sure I can come up with a suitable excuse."

"So where is Merlin now?"

"I assume he's still at the clearing. I'm not sure whether to go back there now or wait. We might catch him. Or he might be on his way back here. I never thought I would have to do this for Merlin of all people."

"And what happens when we do figure out what's wrong with him."

"Then I do believe we might have to kidnap my irritating manservant for his own damn good, and fix him!"

…..

The walk back to her hut took a lot less time than the outward journey. Possibly because going, had involved an invalided sister going out to die, and a reluctant girl not happy about her assigned role. Was it strength that had allowed her to carry out her sister's last wish? Or cowardice at not being able to see her suffer any more than she already had? The lines had blurred somewhere and Morgana couldn't seem to find peace. Was she a murderer or a merciful benefactor? Did it matter? She had killed her sister.

The hut felt far too empty upon her return. All life having fled with Morgause' spirit she was alone. Truly alone for the first time in her short life. It was not a feeling she would ever want to get used to.

She was exhausted in mind, body and spirit and all she wanted was to brew one of the tinctures she had learned how to make, to ease her ailing sibling into sleep when she was in pain, and not think for a little while longer.

But even as she put the finish touches to her decoction, Agravaine came intruding, with his insincere smiles and his false solicitude. Did the man truly believe that Morgana was stupid enough to trust him? That she didn't know that as soon as she ascended the throne he would demand marriage. She would let him think what he would about his 'reward'. But Morgause had taught her well about the desires of men and he would never be satisfied. As soon as the words of handfasting were spoken he would be plotting her demise. There was no earthly way she would ever give such a man power over her. His dream of sitting upon Camelot's throne would remain just that, a delusional fantasy. But until such time as she had no more use for him, he would remain as a puppet dancing upon her strings. And needed as careful a handling as a skittish thoroughbred horse to its breaking. Now there was a thought. Perhaps she was breaking Agravaine to her bridle, until she could lead him around by her reins with little difficulty.

"Lady Morgana."

"Agravaine." The incline of the head was slight denoting that she thought him lesser than her. And though his eyes narrowed at the insult she didn't care the man was a coward and deserving of no respect.

"What happened my lady? There has been no sign of Dorocha in the kingdom." Morgana's eyes narrowed at the thought of her sisters sacrifice and her failure.

"Everything went perfectly, the spell worked. I felt it. But then something interfered, some outside influence that sapped all strength from it and it dissipated."

"You made a mistake?" He sounded incredulous. But his words inflamed her temper the words flowing out without rational thought for the consequences.

"I made no mistake and you would do well to remember who you are speaking to Agravaine! Morgause hired you not I. Your usefulness is only as good as your influence and I don't see you making much progress in that respect!"

"Arthur trusts me Morgana as family. He seems rather gullible in that regard." Oh yes she knew all about that. She had after all duped him into believing her lost girl act for a whole year after she returned from Morgause's stronghold. It still hadn't been enough in the end. She had been Queen for only a week. Had not had chance in that time to help any of her kin. Despite declaring magic free within a day of being crowned. Camelot had continued to oppose her and spit on her. She who would bring a better time.

"How many times has he followed your advice my lord?" The words were sarcastic, the honorific snide. Yes he had gained a position at court but it was a tenuous one. Arthur might trust him but his influence was still somewhat limited whilst his father was still alive. Every decision he made was tempered with the tenets his father instilled within him, he would not break them whilst ever there was a chance of his recovery.

"He leans upon my words more everyday Morgana. You should realise the benefit of patience. Perhaps learn some yourself." A pause as he pondered the wisdom of his next words knowing Morgana's temper "Morgause would have said the same."

The golden flash of her eyes proved painful as he stumbled back with the percussion of her small blast of air. Just enough to get her point across.

"Do not propose to lecture me on what my own sister would have said! You need me far more than I need you!"

"I wouldn't be too sure of that my lady! I too have more than ordinary skills at my disposal, and I have the ear of the future king. I am after all…trusted family." The comment stung. As it was meant to, but there was no chance to retort. He had already left. What manner of people were they that could couch such venomous sentiments behind mere words. They were a weapon as much as Morgana's magic, as much as her sword.

She was usually in more control of her emotions than this. This roiling miasma of feelings churning in her gut was not contusive to the practice of magic. She needed to calm this storm. So saying she stripped to her shift, climbed into bed and took the draft, knowing it was fast acting.

…..

 _There was a red sky, like clouds that rained blood upon a field of battle silent but for the crows pecking at the dead. Banners of Black with a white griffin interspersed amongst the bodies. The distant white walls of Camelot bathed in the unnatural glow with pillars of smoke rising high above. Some bodies displaying the cloaks of the knights of Camelot and some with the furs of the barbarian tribes of the north._

" _Help me!" Her hand reached out as did her voice pleading, and in pain. There was no answer but a figure appeared with the sun directly behind him so she could not see. She was blind to his face and yet she still reached instinctively for the compassion she knew was there. And he in turn reached to her, as she knew without doubt he would. And when their arms touched it felt as if the whole of time itself stood behind him._

She woke gasping, as she usually did from her prophetic dreams. The images seemingly burned onto the backs of her retinas. What had it meant? It seemed clear enough but there was a feeling of vagueness about it she had come to associate with those visions that were open to interpretation.

She wished her sister were here. So they could talk about it dissect it and make plans as they had done before. But she was not, and would never be again. Her anger spiked and she ripped the bracelet Morgause had given her from her wrist in a fit of pique and threw it across the hut.

Looking at the bracelet, laying forlorn, in the heap of dust where it had been flung, it was as if her fury had been suddenly doused with cold water, taking her energy with it, and so she flopped back upon the bed and let the tears flow once again.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N This has been a pain! My characters keep trying to do things I don't want them to. Then I end up having a panic attack because the story isnt working and I don't know where it's going if I keep it in but trying to get it back to where it's supposed to be is a monumental wrestling match. So at the moment this is a bit of a hybrid. It may change. Just warning you now. Let me know if you like or not, so I can work out if it's going in the right direction since this has added a whole new element I wasn't planning on.**

 **...**

Keys to the past.

Chapter 13.

It was on the verge of nightfall when Merlin made his way back to Gaius's tower. He couldn't think of it as home. Not after all these years. He didn't fit in his skin any more. Was he supposed to somehow intervene with Morgana? Or was this new path they followed **it?** His role played by changing the future with that one act of the Cailleach bringing him here?

He had debated the wisdom of coming back. And though he was perfectly content to camp in the woods and knew how to look after himself, it seemed a more prudent course to return and figure things out in a modicum of medieval comfort. Plus as he had told David, he hadn't done well as a hermit. Craving human company after only a few weeks. And this world was slightly bigger than the one he was now used to.

The hinges creaked as he made his way through the door. Gaius sat there alternately reading and staring at the bowl of stew on the table. At the noise he looked up sharply.

"Merlin?"

"Yeah."

"Where have you been?"

"Talking to Khilgarrah." He wouldn't question that at least. The dragon had been a regular fixture in his life at this point.

"And you're not going to tell me what you talked about or what's troubling you?"

Merlin felt weary to his bones. His body not feeling as if it belonged to him. His magic creating a tempest in his gut. Needing to be let out. He was too used to being able to be free with his magic. The power skimmed off constantly. Without thought he reheated his meal, lit the fire and another candle and pulled the chair out from the table merely to take his edge off. Gaius stared.

"Merlin? How did you do that?"

He looked down in confusion. He'd done magic like this before in his presence he remembered doing it so why?

"What?"

"You've never lit the fire **and** a candle, **and** moved something **and** heated something simultaneously, and never without at least one spell. So how did you do it?"

Ah! Yeah non verbal spells. At this point in time he'd only been able to do movement and time to a certain extent as a non verbal, didn't understand how wound up and woven into his very being magic actually was. That had come later, the day he became trapped in the crystal cave on the eve of the battle of Camlann. And it had taken centuries for him to utilise every skill at his disposal to their fullest extent. He closed his eyes trying to banish the memories attempting to flood him. He would not think of it! He owed Gaius this truth at least.

"I don't need spells for my magic any more, haven't needed them for a while." And if it came out a little more acidic than usual, well, his magic seemed to be the only recompense he had ever been granted for the life he was forced to live.

"This…" Gaius fumbled a bit gesturing with his hand up and down Merlin's torso. "…mood you are in is starting to worry me." Merlin just carried on eating, the jerky movements of his hand from bowl to mouth indicating his effort to hold back.

"Why did you quit? I know you Merlin and nothing on this earth would ever make you give up." It was not Gaius's fault. He didn't know everything and Merlin had no clear way of telling him without hurting him in the process. How do you tell a beloved guardian, who has died once already, that you are going to have to watch him do it again? Would his life ever be his own?

"I can still protect him, from a distance, he doesn't need **me**."

"And just how do you expect to keep him safe if you aren't with him?"

"I've picked up a few things that would help." And oh wasn't that an understatement. He knew things that would curl Gaius's toes. Especially healing magic. He had been a **very** late bloomer in that respect and if he'd had a normal life span he would never have mastered it but, being immortal had one, possibly the only good point. He'd had plenty of time to practice.

Gaius's eyebrow had risen in that tell tale sign he was either on the verge of a lecture or would just sit and stare at him till he would have broken down and confessed anything to make him stop. But he wasn't that boy any more and his patience was second to none. He had after all had more than enough practice waiting for Arthur.

It was the latter game his time, Gaius's head moving around as if doing some part of a weird tribal dance. And Merlin just stared on back, face expressionless until the physician gave up with a huff of both anxiety, and a touch of fear, a clear question in his gaze.

"I'm not entirely sure I know you any more. You're not the same bumbling boy that walked into these chambers all those years ago." No he wasn't it had been too long since he had been. He may have kept the name Merlin to honour his mother even if there was no-one else who ever used it for centuries at a time. But the man Merlin had been had moved on. Now he was what destiny had moulded him into. A relic of times past and most probably a broken one! Had Gaius read something in his face? Since the man had always known him best. Again another truth he could tell though possibly not one he would understand. He would wonder. Perhaps if he couldn't tell him he might be able to show him, since words were sometimes not enough.

"I am Emrys." And he let his restraint on his magic go and allowed the room to flood with it as he stood and went to his room leaving his meal unfinished and his former guardian gasping at the feeling of it in his wake.

…..

That was not Merlin.

Not his bumbling ward, his surrogate son. That power!

He had never felt its like and he knew what Merlin's magic felt like. Had felt in awe of the strength and gentleness of his gift even when he had first arrived. It had gotten stronger since then he knew it had…but that! That was a display of sheer mind numbing control and mastery as he had never heard of. That was not the gift of a 22 year old no matter that he had held the reins since birth.

And calling himself by his druid name? Merlin had always disassociated himself from it. Complained at how uncomfortable it made him feel at the mere implications of reverence it brought.

So to name himself as the immortal, along with his outburst just after his collapse? It could not be a coincidence.

" _No! No! This is not happening! You died! You died in my arms, you're all dead!"_

Tears threatened to spill themselves down his cheeks as he took in every detail of what had been right in front of him since Merlin wandered down his steps in a daze. He had not expected to see them all, had looked like he had seen a ghost, or several. Had put his hand up as if to ward them off not caring who saw. Told them they had all died, that he had failed and Camelot was no more. Had quit, when such a thing would have been practically impossible just yesterday.

Gaius could argue he had had some kind of vision. Gods know that magic was rife on Samhain's eve enough to give anyone premonitions, but Merlin had, had those before and never reacted in such a way. And then the magic, more than any mortal man should be able to hold. He couldn't fathom the years it had taken to aquire it. Just how had he gained years worth of experience it if not by living it? And did he really wish to know? But deep in his heart he knew, he was right. Merlin's eyes had held more than a lifetimes worth of sorrow. And with Merlin's affinity for slowing and stopping time…what more would it take to reverse it?

His door was shut but when he opened it he was sat looking up towards the small window as he had been that morning that felt oh so long ago now.

"Just how old are you now?"

"You figured it out? I should have known you would. It never did take you many clues or much time to work things through. I think you and Einstein would have gotten along very well." The expectant silence stretched and it made the physician wonder if he would ever get to know. "A little older than you." It was no answer, he was hiding again and it wouldn't do. Merlin sighed at the very blatant look that told him he wouldn't rest till he had what he was seeking. "You won't let this be will you?"

"Merlin I wish to help. From your reaction yesterday I take it you're not supposed to be here?"

"Oh I think I've worked it out with Khilgarrah that I am. I just don't think you can help. And my telling you my age won't do anything."

"Except give me some insight into all you've been through."

"No Gaius leave it. Please. Just…no!"

"I take it I can't call you my boy anymore?" Merlin gave a shaky laugh. How could Gaius always surprise him?

"No you can, always Gaius, always!" The hug enfolded him as it had last night and he wondered how it was that this was so easy. That he could fall back into this tactile relationship when for centuries he had hardly let anyone near enough.

…..

They had seen him return.

afternoon, Leon by his side patrol rosters and guard shifts taking up his time whilst he kept watch from the window.

It was unusual but not unheard of for Arthur and his first knight to spend time together, they were friends as well as knight and commander.

They had had to hold off on gaining Gwaine and Lancelot's help for the moment since Agravaine had been true to his word and sent them out with some men towards the isle of the blessed before Arthur had even been awake. It would be a few days before they returned, Arthur cursing his uncle that he had picked the two knights he needed right now. And so the moment they spotted Merlin making his weary way towards Gaius's rooms they made the decision to start looking into it themselves.

Gaius's tower was isolated. The only entrance a doorway at the end of a very short corridor with stairs that wound down to the next level and a set of rooms practically identical in size and layout but had been used as storage rather than chambers. And Arthur knew how the noise from above echoed strangely into one particular corner. Or at least it had done in the other tower when he and Morgana had played together as children.

Even whispers from the main room above could be heard. He and Morgana had held entire conversations without seeing each other until the novelty had worn off and they had stopped coming.

And Arthur thought it such a good idea to try it now, even with Leon's scowl of disapproval at the dishonesty of it. That is until it became apparent that Merlin had not been under the control of a dragon at all. The man had magic and Gaius knew of it! Was so casual in the discussion of it as if it were a regular occurrence. They were both in shock. Leon going so far as to draw his sword and make for the staircase, fully intending to arrest him himself.

And Arthur? Arthur didn't know what prompted him to hold fast to Leon's sleeve.

"We tell no one. This is between me and him. We take him to the sorcerer's cell ourselves. I want to know what the hell he thinks he's playing at."

"He's betrayed us all sire."

"I know! Damn it all Leon I know! But he's not that good of an actor. There's more to this. We need to know what. Why stay so close only to quit now just as I become regent? He was as close to me as he could get. If he were here to do harm wouldn't he have done so unless he's waiting for something. We have to find out what he's waiting for. What his game is. Who are they talking about protecting? It sounds as if there is another traitor. We need to know who."

"This is a very dangerous pursuit my lord."

"That is why it will be me and you and Perceval a public trial isn't necessary. I will fetch the cuffs from the vaults, await you in my chambers. Wait an hour then tell Merlin I need to see him. Surely between us we can contain one sorcerer. Especially if he doesn't realise that we know what he is."

"And Gaius?"

"House arrest Leon, keep them separated find out all you can. He's not to leave his quarters we'll put it about that they've been quarantined for some kind of illness. You and Perceval take the detail. This does not leave either of your lips. My father's men and Agravaine would call for his immediate execution. But he's been here what five years? It's a very long game Leon why wait? If he's part of some elaborate plot it's beyond my understanding right now. We need to get to the bottom of it before it's too late. If we tell anyone we won't have the time to. Not to mention the repercussions"

"Sire I'm not sure this is wise. He's a sorcerer! Are you sure you are not letting your affection for the boy cloud your thinking?" Arthur's demeanour became murderous at the slander, understandable though it was.

"That boy has infiltrated the royal household Leon! Why? He's had plenty of opportunity to kill us all multiple times in the last five years and yet he hasn't. There has to be more to this than is apparent on the surface and it's confusing the hell out of me. I will not compromise the safety of this kingdom for one boy, but in equal measure I will not allow the name of my house be dragged through the mud. And it will if Camelot finds out I've been unwittingly harbouring a sorcerer for so long, first Morgana now Merlin. And how is Gaius involved? Why would he turn on us now? The citizens wouldn't feel safe knowing I can be duped so easily. This is done cleanly, quietly and away from the public eye as soon as we know what the plan is."

Leon kept looking at him steadily trying to read Arthurs intent from his stance and his features. Apparently whatever he saw in his face satisfied him because he gave one quick nod and grasped his arm in the time honoured brotherly tradition between warriors.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N Right little bit of bamf in this so I do hope you like but um I'm hiding now!**

 **...**

Keys to the past

Chapter 14.

Merlin a sorcerer?

It was a thought that kept circling within his mind as he first wound his way down to the vaults and then back up again. A vulture waiting to land and feast upon all his hopes. And yet it had not yet landed. There was life within his belief yet, because there was something wrong in the picture he held of magic users and their motivations. Why after five years of serving him loyally would he turn? Was it the magic that had finally corrupted him like his father had always believed or was there something more? He did not want to look at the friendship he had built over that time and find it all a lie. Surely there was some real feeling there. Perhaps that was what had stayed his hand. He had after all saved his life. Had those circumstances been contrived? He couldn't see how they could have been. There was no earthly way any man could predict his father would reward his saviour in such a way. So why save his life? And it had not been the only time. Merlin had drunk poison for him. What possible plan could there be that he would willingly endanger his own life to fulfil? It made no sense.

He wished he had listened to Leon and not gone to eavesdrop. Or gone on his own, since a knight of Leon's calibre expected Merlin's arrest and a certain type of behaviour towards magic, it made it impossible for Arthur to do anything other than what he had. At least he had mitigated any consequences of this to a minimum. The less people knew of it the better. In all honesty, Arthur couldn't name what he felt about this whole situation. He was angry, nearly incandescent with fury at it. Not even just at Merlin. It was Gaius for keeping it from him, Merlin for learning it when he should have known better, and most of all, himself. He should have noticed something. Should have looked harder at his thin excuses, his blatantly unrealistic explanations instead of putting it down as a character quirk and dismissing it as unimportant.

Up until yesterday Arthur would have laughed at any suggestions that Merlin was a sorcerer. Had laughed at it previously come to think of it, even hearing it from Merlin's own mouth he had held hopes that it was some cruel joke. Merlin did not fit the well worn categories of the sorcerers he had faced over the years. Had thought the man to be his friend, his first true friend. It had seemed so genuine, so unlike those boys of his youth, he had seen right through, only wanting to know him for the status it would bring. Had he been a fool? He was a sorcerer and every one till now had tried to harm this kingdom in some way. Was he the exception to the rule? Or had it been an act?

He needed to know his motivations. Something. Anything. Even if it was a mere confirmation of his never having cared at all. At least then he would know where he stood.

…..

The knock came as Merlin finished off a second helping of Gaius's stew. His former mentor having coaxed him back to the table in the main room. He had been regaling him with some of his experiences over the years, watering them down tempering them to not reveal too much about his age. He could tell Gaius knew he was hiding again but they both pretended he was not. It gave him a feeling of such gratitude. This man had stood by him when all else had been nightmarish, and he was doing it again now even as the circumstances had changed dramatically.

Merlin stayed where he was as Gaius waved him to remain.

"Leon, Percival! Is there something wrong?"

"Gaius." The man gave a respectful nod though it was not quite as courteous as usual, he was looking rather distracted. "Merlin, The prince needs to see you in his chambers."

"I don't work for him anymore. I resigned this morning."

"I know but he still needs to see you." There was an undercurrent to Leon's words. Almost undetectable but there none the less, it put Merlin on edge.

"He went looking for you earlier. He was worried about you. Best go see what he wants my boy." Merlin sighed. He did not want to speak to the prince. Knew he couldn't avoid it. Gaius was right again. He could not afford to alienate him now, when he had no real answers as to his role in this rewritten legend.

"We will work this out Merlin. Just go reassure him. Then we'll get to researching." He gave a nod and followed Leon out the door. Noting with a merest hint of suspicion that Percival stayed behind. He was being paranoid again? Percy could have just gone for a remedy, it was not unheard of. He shook his head and just walked at the side of the knight.

"Do you know what he wants from me?"

"I'm not entirely sure." And there was that note in his voice again. A subtle hint of something and his hand was on his sword hilt. Perhaps Arthur was annoyed with him. He wouldn't put it past the man to be unreasonable with everyone merely because Merlin had not conformed precisely to his wishes. It had been annoying in his first time here, how much of a spoilt brat he could still revert to when he was thwarted.

Leon stopped at the end of the hall to talk to the two guards indicating Merlin should carry on without him. And again Merlin's suspicious nature bubbled up, though why it should when Leon often talked to the guardsmen. He was getting paranoid again. His instincts had been on high alert since he got here. It was no wonder he was seeing plots around every corner.

He knocked, an almost unheard of occurrence when he had been a servant, and pushed open the heavy door.

He was grabbed, something snaking around the thin bones of his wrist, cool and smooth and feeling utterly wrong.

Merlin acted completely on instinct. His many years of martial arts coming to the fore. Without conscious thought he rotated his hand breaking the grip of his attacker, spun and grabbed him under the arms, rotating his hip to throw him off balance and pulling his weight across his back as he threw him over his shoulder.

The click of something snapping onto his forearm barely registered in the adrenalin fuelled moment. Especially as he got a good look at his opponent, gasping on the floor and met the eyes of a very shocked prince. It was exceptionally comical and he could not help the hysterical laugh burbling to the surface at his expression.

Until he caught sight of what had been the cause of Arthur's grabbing his arm in the first place.

"Well that's new!" Merlin eyed the cuff now attached to his wrist almost in disbelief, the runes standing out starkly. Then he glanced down at Arthur laying winded on the floor, and offered him a hand up. Huffing in exasperation. "Wasn't expecting an attack as I came through the door. I congratulate you on your strategy. There isn't much that surprises me anymore."

Arthur looked at the hand he held out as if it were some kind of snake. How the hell had Merlin thrown him? He had no muscles to speak of and no real skill with hand to hand combat. It was yet one more piece he didn't know. He just put the other cuff on him and then shoved the hand away as he got to his feet. Merlin merely looked dangerously amused for some reason.

Leon came back through the door unsheathing his sword as he entered and pointing it unerringly at Merlin. "I take it from your bringing these out and that…" He gestured first at the cuffs and then Leon's blade. "…that you have somehow worked out I have magic?" Arthur looked taken aback, glancing uneasily at Leon. He was taking this far too well for a magic user in Camelot. It was unnerving and completely different to the scenario he had envisioned in his head.

"You don't deny it?" The shrug was unexpected and just threw them even further into confusion.

"Why would I when you're convinced? Protestations of innocence never did make any impression where magic was concerned." His tone was far too mild, nothing like those used by every other man or woman accused of sorcery. But the man was right damn him. The only times suspected sorcerers had ever been spared was when irrefutable evidence had been brought forth to prove it to the court. Those instances had been very rare. And there were two witnesses to his guilt.

But for Merlin to just casually admit it as if he were mentioning that the sky was blue. It ran a knife through his heart. This man in front of him didn't act like the Merlin he knew, didn't sound like him. It made it all too easy to think he had betrayed him.

Why would he do this? Why choose it?

He must have stated the questions out loud though he didn't recall doing so. Merlin's face twisted into the more normal response he had expected, Anger coursing through him.

"Oh yes Arthur I chose to be reviled and hated for the whole of my life here because of course such a life has to be fulfilling! It is a perfectly reasonable thing for every man to strive for!" The sarcasm was unwelcome despite its being the first emotionally charged sentence Merlin had yet spoken.

"Why practice it then? You must have known this would be the consequence. Was the power you gained worth all the suffering you have caused?" Merlin looked at Arthur mind whirling through all his years of heartache and loneliness. He had no clue at all what Merlin had endured. Blind and blinkered. His too narrow gaze would never look beyond the confines of Camelot's teachings until it was far too late. Could never see anything that Merlin had sacrificed or the people he lost along the way. His naïve belief in the promise of a better future, fuelling a single minded determination that just seemed pointless now, if this was what it had all been leading to.

"No it was never really worth anything." Arthur became somewhat smug as if he were telling him I told you so, in the most malicious way possible. "The fact I didn't have any choice in the matter just made it ten times worse." That made the prince livid.

"There is always a choice. And you chose to betray me, betray us all! You are a traitor." Merlin had. Hadn't he? He had caused his death, had caused so much suffering. Set Morgana down the path that led to the destruction of so much good. Pushed Mordred onto **his** path with his mistrust. Held them all hostage to his secrets. His mind flashed back to the conversation he had with David. It had been a premonition then, and this his own version of hell. His punishment for not being good enough, wise enough, for being too self serving in his bid to keep the magic covert and unnoticed.

"Yes, I don't think I ever realised it at the time, but I did." The acquiescence was not what the Prince had expected. Merlin had never given up in a fight. He had stood longer than many knights in training sessions. It was rather suspect that he had done so now. Merlin was supposed to fight. "I betrayed you the moment I drew breath Arthur, since you can't escape destiny after all, no matter how much you might wish to." This whole conversation was a tangle. It was creating a greater confusion within the prince than anything he had previously come across. It was so far outside of every interrogation experience of sorcerers he had ever held.

"You will say nothing then in your own defence?"

"What does it matter? According to the law **there is** no defence for sorcery. Why should I speak out and make myself hoarse for your entertainment since that is what it would be."

"You are not making this any easier on yourself." Merlin laughed then. A harsh mockery of a laugh. Deep and guttural with no trace of genuine amusement, only a fist shaken at the irony of fate.

"Since when does destiny ever make life easy? Life is never simple for someone with magic Arthur, most especially for me. And answering your questions certainly wouldn't make it damned easy! Take me to the cell you obviously have waiting Arthur and leave me in peace." He turned away, not that he could really go anywhere with Leon blocking the doorway. Arthur was at a loss. Merlin had never missed an opportunity to ram his opinions down Arthur's throat in the past, why stop now?

"Why will you not explain, give me any kind of truth? You have lied to me for so long. Made a fool of me! Betrayed the trust I gave you! I deserve the truth of why you came here at the very least." Merlin turned back with the most resigned look Arthur had ever seen on his servants face. And Arthur fought to keep his anger in check. What the hell had he to feel resigned for? He chose this the moment he studied his first spell. He must have known this was a possibility.

"You don't really want the truth right now. You want vindication for your actions. For the decisions you will make and I am not prepared to give that to you because that **would** be a lie. When you want the truth and are ready for it you can have it. But I doubt you'll be prepared for it in the next few hours. So I'm not doing this. I am not debasing myself for you. You have made up your mind and there is nothing on this earth that will sway you except yourself. Go ask Geoffrey Arthur. Ask him about the purge and when you're done make up your own damned mind. You have a brain, use it! I am done with begging for every crumb. I've told you before Arthur that you know nothing of magic. You're a child stumbling in the dark, refusing to believe it's only because you won't open your eyes. You are a fool! And will remain so as long as you bury your head in the sand."

His face had shuttered and he just stared at Arthur with absolute cold detachment. His outbursts had steadily lost all feeling as he had continued on. The passion leaching away leaving just hardness. It was as if all his genuine emotion had been strangled and compressed into glittering diamond. Smooth and unbreakable.

But even diamonds have flaws. Tiny cracks that if hit the wrong way can shatter. He hadn't told him yet of Gaius being held under house arrest until he could determine how much the old man knew. Gaius was a family friend, a father figure to Arthur when his own had been preoccupied. He would not harm him. But Merlin did not know that. Gaius was his ace. His means of persuasion. His means of finding the truth so he could be prepared for whatever he had been building up to.

"So you would risk the life of Gaius for your silence?"

Merlin's head shot up at Arthur's harsh words. No Arthur wouldn't? Would he?

Percival had been there with Leon, and now he knew why. He should have listened to his instincts.

He searched the king's face for any sign that it was a lie, a ploy to get him to reveal something, anything. Leon's eyes had narrowed but he never said anything, had been silent throughout the entire exchange. But Arthur was an expert at revealing nothing of his emotions, as prince he had to be. There was no indication of softness, or any kind of deception and Merlin felt his heart drop like lead through the bottom of his stomach. This was not Arthur standing before him, threatening his mentor. This was Uther's son. His pattern card, and he would brook no quarter.

Merlin could not let Gaius suffer. Not for this, not for him. The first traces of feeling filtered through the dam he had built around his emotions. The cracks becoming ever wider as he imagined his father figure staked to a pyre or knelt in front of the executioner's blade. His first death had not been easy certainly but it was a better end than what Arthur proposed.

Arthur saw the flicker of real fear and pain in his eyes and his pulse sped up in heavy guilt tinged victory. This may just work. At least now he would get answers. Might be able to get to the bottom of this growing pile of questions. There was so much he did not know, had to figure out. Why was he here? He ignored the small voice of reason trying to break through his feelings of hurt and horror, telling him here was the one man who had been there with him every step of his journey so far.

"Gaius has done nothing! Why would you do this?"

"Answer me and he will be fine."

"Arthur…?"

"That is Sire, or my Lord to you _Sorcerer!_ You will answer?!" Arthur winced internally. It was a tone and tack his father had always used, something he thought he would never say. And wasn't he just like him now? Merlin studied the prince for a moment longer. Even though he knew his mentor would die again eventually, everyone would. And he would face all those years alone once more. He could not forget the comfort it had brought him to be loved unconditionally as so many lifetimes ago. He could not let anyone be held accountable for him. **He** could not die, but he refused to allow anyone else to do so before their time. He allowed for just one angry nod.

"What do you want to know?"

"Why are you here?" It was a simple enough question, so Arthur was rather at a loss as to why the laugh came. Rough and harsh though it was.

"Gods why am I here? Would you believe me if I told you it was a mistake or a side effect? You will think it a fabrication when I tell you the whole of it. You will think me mad. But oh to have that comfort of madness, of not knowing fiction from reality! I know too well who I am and I cannot escape it. So many times have I tried, but there is no escape not for me. Never for me." Merlin had moved closer. Sat on the floor of the princes room. Cross legged, knees drawn up, relaxed posture belying the tension in his words. Dressed in the threadbare clothing Merlin had first arrived in five years ago. Looking haggard and worn and sounding as if he had given up. As if something had curled up and died inside. Arthur felt the faintest stirrings of pity and severely quashed them. This man deserved nothing from him.

"We have been here before you and I. You finding out about my magic and you reacting badly." Whatever Arthur had expected this had most certainly not been it. He would most assuredly have remembered the man telling him he had such a cursed gift. Unless he had made him forget? Arthur was horrified at the possibility of such manipulation. He opened his mouth to harshly demand an explanation, but he hadn't finished.

"You accepted me. Thanked me. And then you died in my arms. I was told you would rise again, the once and future king. You would come when Albion's need was greatest. I waited for you. 1500 years I waited, through so many conflicts, so much need. But you never came. I realised you never would. It was a false hope to keep me chained. A slave to fate. Just as it was when I first arrived in Camelot. Great bloody destiny!" The pure unadulterated anger in his words a counterpoint to the tears running silent tracks down Merlin's face, his voice choked and rasping, utterly sincere. Arthur could only gape. What madness was this?

"I was teaching control to a young girl. Megan. Spoiled, arrogant, reminded me of you when we first met. Something went wrong at the Samhain festival on Glastonbury tor. A place of ancient magic you know as the lake of Avalon. The combination of her uncontrolled magic, the location and the thinness of the veil combined and sent me back. I don't have a clue how." He laughed again staring at his hands held in front of his face. Arthur was becoming heartily sick of the sound. It sent chills down his spine. As did the fantastical story. Yes it most certainly sounded insane.

"The greatest warlock ever to walk the earth, with over 1500 years of experience and I can't work out how a simple spell went so badly wrong. Time travel is supposed to be impossible. So you asked me why I'm here? Honestly I have no bloody clue!"

Arthur's jaw worked soundlessly for minutes at a time. Staring at the broken man in front of him. And he was broken, utterly shattered despite his furious outbursts earlier He wasn't crying anymore, though he was shaking now he had stopped speaking. But the strangest and most terrifying detail he had plucked from that whole conversation was that he had believed in what he was saying completely. Unable to process anything, Arthur just turned on his heel and strode to the door to Leon who looked just as taken aback as he.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N This took a little longer than expected but if you look at the word count you might see why! Add in all the angst and it turned into a monster! I seriously need to send warm hugs and heartfelt gratitude to my beta Doberler. Fabulous lady for putting up with my rants and insane ravings, late night rambling, nonsense emails and most particularly for her insights, the depth she brought and her extrication technique. She was most effective at pulling every last drop of creativity from me she possibly could. Thank you!**

 **Oh um oops forgot to put a disclaimer in here. I don't own anything of Merlin's or even Merlin himself (more's the pity!) I also have no claim on any of Sir Walter Scott's works especially Marmion I have merely quoted him.**

* * *

Keys to the past.

Chapter 15

"He's clearly insane, Sire!" Leon hissed, keeping his wary eyes on Merlin.

Arthur couldn't think. Gaius's life was supposedly on the line. A guarantee for facts, and yet the man had given him a tale so flagrantly untrue he wondered if Leon's assessment wasn't so very far off. Had Merlin gone mad? Just as his father had done at Morgana's betrayal, and what they had heard was Gaius humouring him playing up to his insecurities? But no. The dragon was real, and Gaius would not be so cruel as to continue a delusion so large.

"I can still hear you, Leon. And though you may think it, I'm not. I wish to God I were."

"How the hell can I trust anything you say?" Arthur asked, his voice even, betraying the turmoil deep within him. "Even you have to admit, it's not possible to live so long. It is patently unbelievable. I've met your mother, your friends from your childhood. Unless they were all fabrications, too? Just like your name. Just how many lies have we been fed over the years, _Emrys_?" The word snapped out of the prince's mouth. The sorcerer had named himself that.

Merlin narrowed his eyes at that name falling from Arthur's lips with such disdain. "' _Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive._ '" He breathed softly. "Scott had the right of it, it seems." _Just who the hell was Scott? One of Merlin's friends?_ It didn't sound likely. It sounded a little too educated for any of the castle servants.

"Sir Walter Scott," Merlin said, as if reading Arthur's mind. "An 18th century contemporary poet. It's a quote from his epic poem _Marmion_. I didn't much care for it at the time; there weren't many who did, if I recall correctly. Too pretentious." He recognized the glazed look that formed on their faces, and waved it aside as unimportant. "Shall I tell you everything? The whole sorry tale? Garner your sympathy for the poor, mentally afflicted 'sorcerer'?" More unwelcomed sarcasm said with a sneer and a fierce bite. Sympathy was the furthest thing from Arthur's mind at the moment, and which Merlin clearly read by the way he worked his jaw and the daggers now in his eyes.

"Fine! Truth you want then, and truth you shall have! But beware, Arthur. Truth is a weapon, too, and should be handled very carefully. It can cause more pain than the dirtiest poison." The shared glances of angry scepticism from both Leon and Arthur shooting Merlin's way seemed to bounce off the warlock's thick skin. Perhaps, Merlin thought, it would be good to finally unburden himself, cathartic even. Arthur had now become his therapist, but he wondered how expensive the price would prove to be.

"Would it have been easier for me to tell you as soon as we met that I was a warlock? That I held the reins of a power you had been brought up to hate since birth?" His voice was musing, as if his words were not driving nails through Arthur's heart, especially with the implications of Merlin being **born** a sorcerer. _How was that even possible?_ "When your father would have had me on the pyre quicker than you could blink merely for being born?" That was truth. His father never had cared if an adult or a child held the magic. The outcome was the same. "As soon as that first lie crossed my lips, Arthur, I had sealed my fate. And don't bother asking why I came to Camelot in the first place." Arthur snapped his jaw shut having decided to do just that. "Where exactly would it have been safe for me to go?"

"Sorcery was not illegal in Essetir." _Why would he come to a kingdom opposed rather vehemently against the practice when the one in which he was born was not?_

Merlin's face showed true rage now, and Arthur couldn't understand it. "Don't be naïve, Arthur! Just because it wasn't illegal did not mean we were accepted!" That silenced the prince. The only sorcerer Arthur had ever heard willingly allying themselves with Cenred was Morgause, and that had proved a fatal alliance in the end. He couldn't remember hearing of any other sorcerers in Cenred's court and that now struck him as rather odd for a country that hadn't made it illegal. Odin had sorcerers in his lands. Helva was a city populated mainly by sorcerers, and Queen Annis was at least tolerant of the practice if not openly in favour. _Why had he never noticed it before?_

"I was counted strange and unnatural as a bastard child, shunned and beaten for it. I would have been stoned if I had shown my face as a sorcerer, my mother along with me. My silence was not just for myself." Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together, shaking his head to will phantom images away. How had Arthur forgotten the laws concerning those who harboured sorcerers? It caused the merest twinge of real guilt in the prince.

"And if we had survived it, I would have been sold to the king and the village wiped out to prevent witnesses. He'd done it before. He **used** sorcerers, shackled them into slavery if they were weak enough to control, and killed them if he could not, and I was damned if I would let them do that to me! I would have been a weapon, nothing more, until he had no further use for me! Camelot's poisonous teachings have leaked into every kingdom. Short of killing myself to save you the trouble, I had no choice but to lie. I didn't know I couldn't die until my body started refusing to age. I wasn't even sure if I **was** immortal until my full potential was unlocked, and fear of death for my magic was a reality I lived with constantly!" Arthur winced. "I would rather have died here in Uther's kingdom far away from my mother and village and know they were safe from the machinations of vindictive rulers than bring harm to them all merely for existing." That was a standpoint he could understand and could feel reluctant admiration for, even as it turned every belief of self-serving, power hungry magicians he had been brought up to believe on its head.

Merlin took a shuddering breath. "Emrys is what the Druids call me. It isn't my name. It's my title, a description, if you will, from the Druid prophecies. You have one, too, Once and Future King, though yours seems to be somewhat misleading!" Arthur startled at it even though Merlin had used the term before, barely an hour ago in fact. And although he wanted to find out what, if any, significance a Druid prophecy had to do with him, he kept his focus keen on Merlin. It would have to be added to the list and wait for another time. Besides, he didn't believe in Old Religion prophecies that probably held no basis in truth anyway.

"What description? What title? You're a peasant, not a noble, or was that a lie too?" Every supposed fact was making the guilt and anger spiral tighter together, twisting around each other until he could not distinguish them apart. It made him seem harsher than he really was. All he had wanted was answers. All he was getting was a tangle of words that made sense in one respect, but were entwined with information that was so convoluted and far-fetched it was next to impossible to take seriously.

"You don't get it, do you? Direct translation: Emrys means Immortal! The Druids revere me because the amount of magic I hold prevents time from affecting me. I can't think why they should believe it a good thing. It's not fun, I don't recommend it." Even though he was trying to be flippant, Arthur could see the weariness, as of a weight bearing down. _Revered him? Does a whole community of magic users think Merlin a…a god? Does he? How much power does he really hold?_ "They have no idea what it is like to be immune from death, incapable of leaving this earth for good. Doomed to wander the land forever watching everyone and everything around me disappear. Hell, if you're so bent on proof, run me through and see where it leads. I give you permission to try and kill me. It's painful and messy, but trust me when I say I've had worse, much, much worse." Merlin cocked an eyebrow at the now gaping knight and prince, his grim drama setting off sparks of uncertainty, pity, and irritation, a completely incongruous mix.

Arthur could only stare; sympathy, confusion, fury, and just the tiniest bit of fear flashed across his face. Merlin didn't care about dying, seemed even frivolous about it, and believed himself immortal, maybe even a powerful god. Was Merlin truly mad? He couldn't wrap his head around this…tale. There were so many implausible assertions made here that Merlin believed to be true. Threw them out without any apparent concern for whether Arthur would take heed of them. But…what if what he was hearing was the truth? No. The prince quashed the thought more quickly than it had come, though he felt somewhat nauseous all the same. It couldn't possibly be.

Merlin's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He saw the battle of emotions rage across Arthur's face, knowing that he would only add to the conflict, but not really caring at this point. Arthur **had** asked, and so he continued. "I'm a creature of the Old Religion. Human, but not fully. Made of magic to fulfil the will of the old gods, and someone the Triple Goddess has seen fit to send back!" Merlin squared his shoulders, his eyes pinned to Arthur with every bit the wise visage he had personified so many times to lift up Arthur's confidence. "She has a purpose for my being here again, but I'm damned if I know the whole of it. She never does anything without reason. I learned that the hard way." That made the prince wonder exactly what the Triple Goddess had done to cause such bitterness in Merlin's words. And there it was again: his insistence that he had been sent back from some time in the future. He had mentioned the 18th century. _Could it be possible? Could all this really be true?_ It was just unfathomable.

"You asked me why was I here. It was my destiny to serve you the first time, Arthur; to protect you from all the magical threats you could never see." The prince mentally scoffed at that and then checked himself as certain situations they really should not have been able to survive started to filter through.

"It was also my duty to guide you into becoming the king you were always destined to be, the greatest that ever lived." There was pride there, tinged with regret and remorse. It made it seem more believable, more Merlin. Arthur was having a hard time distinguishing facts right now. "And you were, Arthur. For a very brief period of time, you really were. You and your knights became a legend. They spoke of your nobility, your compassion, and your courage for fifteen centuries. They wrote books about you." Arthur wondered exactly who 'they' were, and just how much of a ploy this was as Merlin pandered to his ego. _Fifteen centuries?_ Arthur scoffed mentally.

"But I was the idiot you've always painted me. In my ignorance, my joy at having finally found a purpose for the magic I was born with, I was blinded. In my naïveté, I made some of the worst mistakes a man can ever make _because_ of you and our so-called destiny, and turned against a friend who needed me, betrayed her when she was lost and alone and ripe for making her own bad decisions based in fear." _Who?_ Merlin had now admitted to betraying not just Arthur, but some mystery woman as well.

Merlin's voice had turned wistful, yet weary, the weight of the ages seeping through. "If I had just reached out, defied the prophecies surrounding her fate, perhaps she would never have turned against you, never caused any of the pain that came after. I have so many regrets."

 _Oh,_ _ **her**_ _!_ Had there been a chance for his sister to redeem herself? It had been the greatest shock when Morgana had turned against them merely because she was the last person he would ever have suspected of being complicit in an act of treason. Thoughts of the Druid boy and Arthur's own part in that affair slammed into him. All right. He could concede treason was not a new concept for his sister, but he had firmly believed she would never have done so for the selfish reason of vengeance for a slight against her heritage. And had Merlin know of her magic before she'd vanished with Morgause just a few weeks ago? They had been friends up until then.

Merlin was no longer looking at them. He was staring off into the middle distance as if looking at the scenes of his rhetoric. Arthur couldn't read his face, unsure of what to say in the long, awkward silence. But Merlin was not yet finished.

"I did you a disservice, too. Yet, another friend gained your trust, guided you wrongly, and sealed your fate all unknowing. I pushed Mordred away with my distrust when it was that very emotion that made his destiny inviolate. Your protégé." _Merlin still claimed friendship?_ Arthur was surprised and actually rather hurt that he would when he still wasn't sure it wasn't a lie. And Mordred? It took him a few moments to remember it was the name of that same young Druid boy they rescued a few years ago. Maybe fourteen, fifteen years old by now. What role did he play in this farce? The simple rational explanation he had hoped for, for all of this, was anything but!

"The kingdom went on without your leadership, but it was never the same. Gwen was a wonderful queen, but she was a heartbroken one. She missed you, Arthur, more than you could ever comprehend. She never married again, and your son grew up without a father, yet another Pendragon without a parent! It was my fault. You died because of me, my stupidity, and I am sorry for it. The Golden Age never realised fully." The logical part of Arthur's brain was telling him this was a manipulation with the ultimate goal unknown. His heart, however, wished for Guinevere and a family with all his being. Gwen will be queen, deep down he knew that. But a son yet to be born? And he apparently _**dies**_ without ever seeing this son? What point would there be to give so many "future?" details that could not be proven? To admit guilt for something they have yet to see or had never seen? Arthur felt his anger rise, his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. _How dare he use his love for Guinevere and longing for a family to sway him!_

"I made so many wrong decisions even though I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. I thought I always knew best, was wiser and less gullible than I actually was. The gods should never have put the burden on my shoulders." Merlin drew his breath sharply, an attempt to keep the knot in his throat from strangling his very voice. "I was never up for the task. I've wished so often since I pushed your lonely burial barge out into Avalon that I could atone for my part in your fate." His voice cracked with sorrow, yet hope tinged its edges, his eyes glazed with unshed tears. "Maybe this is my chance. Things are already different from that timeline, no one need sacrifice themselves for the Veil. And Lancelot can continue to protect you. I hope it's enough. I don't know why I'm here again, but if I have prevented some of the harm that came the first time round, I'm content. At least now Morgana will never get her hands on his soul." That sounded suspiciously like he was implying that, in whatever fantasy Merlin had dreamed up, Morgana **had** sundered the Veil between the living and the dead, and Lancelot had given his life to prevent whatever horror it had unleashed. It sounded like something he might do, but then Merlin did know the knight best. Could he perhaps be weaving delusions out of real life and his own convoluted, tormented imagination?

Merlin had risen back to his feet and was advancing on them slowly.

"Stay back, Sorcerer!" The warlock stopped in his tracks and glared at the First Knight. He was having a hard time reconciling this version of Leon to the one that had comforted him and sympathised with after Camlann, although he now sounded more lost and panicked rather than outright fuming. This timeline was becoming a mire, he knew. He couldn't fathom why he'd spilt so much truth; and even if they didn't believe, he did feel somehow lighter for it. He had wanted to tell someone of his fears for so long. He laughed a little in his head remembering the last time he had spoken so frankly. It was to an Edwardian physician in a mental institute; not a bad one either. A military hospital dealing with post traumatic stress, though that label never came into use until a long time after. It had been rather restful after the harrowing events of the Somme.

"I'm a bloody warlock! If you're going to accuse me of anything at least get the terminology right! Sorcerers study! Warlocks are born!"

Legitimacy in the facts he shared had become something of a foreign concept over the centuries when he had to create a whole new life and back story every generation. He felt old, ancient, the veneer of his persona cracked and paper thin. Khilgarrah had spoken nothing but reality when he had stated he would be known by many names. He'd lost count of how many: Merlin had ceased to exist a long time ago. He wasn't sure why it irked him now that he was being called a sorcerer, or that the information he was giving was entirely correct from his perspective. It was not as if they couldn't ever entertain the possibility of it being true. But he was irritated none the less.

"You are a mad man. I will not listen to you." Leon, it seemed, was even more resistant than Arthur.

That same fury from before sparked in Merlin's eyes, and on reflex, both Arthur and Leon shifted their stance to defence. "Oh, get your head out of your arse, Leon. You listen to Uther, a man who would commit genocide for a foolish, prideful mistake. A man who turned an entire kingdom against itself and then retreated into insanity before admitting he was wrong! A man you both would do anything to please, including believing every single lie he has ever told without once checking if it's true; carrying out his orders with no thought for anything other than making a bully proud!"

"He is the king!"

"That didn't mean he was right! He was a _tyrant_ , Leon!" Uther was a petty dictator and Merlin had tired of the breed. "You once told me that when Iseldir healed you with the Cup, it was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from your soul, and despite your exhaustion it felt as if you could do anything. That you realised in that moment that not everyone who had magic could possibly be evil since they had no reason to heal you, but did it anyway!" He let those words absorb into the knight, their truthfulness a staggering effect on his towering friend.

"And yet, you still followed him. Uther had no idea of just what he set in motion. If Arthur is a child, then Uther is a petulant toddler denied a favoured toy. He had no notion that to declare war on magic is to declare war on life itself! Magic _**is**_ life! You cannot get rid of it. Try and wipe it out and all you will be left with is a ball of ash. Every man, woman, and child; every tree, every animal, and every drop of rain is part of the fabric of this earth and it will be gone!" His eyes snapped to the prince. "Rule that if you can! I wonder which of us is the real madman."

Arthur's glare was murderous, his jaw working to contain the rage simmering to erupt. He'd never heard such traitorous venom about his father from his manservant before. The tightness in his chest was so great every breath came with tortuous agony.

"Don't look at me like that, Arthur! I have no designs on Uther. I have no wish to commit regicide. Willingly murdering someone just isn't in my character." He took a second to think of all those he had **un** willingly murdered. Never again, he hoped. "I'm not evil personified, despite what you may have been taught. I think the Triple Goddess is punishing him enough though…because he was. He created this horror, this complacency that has swept through the land with just one order. An epidemic that if not stopped will wipe out existence as we know it." He paused to let that thought sink in, to make them realise that power came in many forms, and abuse of it was not relegated to those who had magic.

"Uther's regime wasn't the first of its kind, nor will it be the last. It wasn't even the most bloody. There are and will be worse people than your father, Arthur. The fact he is in a position of authority makes the consequences far more severe and widespread than they would otherwise. It seems to be human nature to treat everyone of a different background or upbringing or skill set as the enemy. Anything we don't understand or can't fully control becomes the scapegoat for all the problems. It starts wars. Ones where the innocents pay the price. People minding their own business, crushed because they don't share their neighbour's ideals." Truth, Arthur admitted. Human nature, capable of the most destructive of all ills.

"And eventually those same innocents won't be innocent any more. They will eventually rise up, turn around, and bite. They will fight for their right to exist, for the continuation of their freedom. Because deep down we are all still human no matter our race, or our creed, or our religion. On a battlefield, you cannot tell the difference since blood is always red and it spills out just the same!" Another truth, but also intrinsic no matter how profound.

"But you never really look at that, do you? At the people behind the fight? All that pain, all that suffering, and for what? To appease the guilt of a despot! Do you even know how many magical attacks were launched at this kingdom before your father decided to take his crazy revenge?" Arthur couldn't help but respond with a stunned shake of his head, his thoughts reeling from the fountain of contention that sprang from Merlin. "And yet you kept it going?" It was accusatory, and he felt that Merlin was vengefully twisting the knife deeper into his chest.

"Well, it was less than you have now. They even had a court sorceress. Did your father ever tell you that? Her name was Nimueh, a High Priestess of the Old Religion. She sat at your father's right hand, and dined with him and Ygraine. They were friends, Arthur! And then the deal he made turned into something unthinkable due to her inexperience and his stubborn ignorance. It was an accident of epic proportions, but he turned on her without a thought. He alone decided that all magic was evil, and killed every one with even a spark of it. Even _**children**_ , Arthur." He tilted his head, a single tear escaping down his cheek. "Tell me how you never questioned it? How _no one_ questioned it?"

That long silence of dread enveloped the room again, almost as if it had manifested and closed in around Arthur. There was nothing he could say, no answer good enough. Was he a tin soldier, after all? Merlin was starting to annoy him with his righteous condemnation so much that he felt exposed, naked. How much more disdain did he have to throw at him?

And then there it was.

"I know you tried to spare the Druid camps you raided when you were younger, and that your men had taken advantage of your inexperience. I know you regretted it. So why did you keep it going?" _How the hell did he know of what he'd thought about those raids?_ It had happened long before Merlin had appeared. It wouldn't have gained him anything to go snooping either. Those thoughts had been kept to himself. He had never shared them with anyone, not even Gaius. And those details of Nimueh and that deal with his father? He'd meant the circumstances surrounding his birth; there was nothing else it could be. Merlin had made him believe that everything was part of a vile plan to have him kill his own parent. _Wasn't it?_

"You told me, at the time, that what I had heard was a lie." Arthur's voice dripped venom, and he nearly shook with rage, doing everything in his power to remain grounded and failing. "And now you're retracting it?!"

"Morgause _was_ manipulating you. Yes, you saw your mother, but the wording in the spell made it clear that some of it was being withheld. It was a mistake on both sides."

A cold shiver spiralled down his spine. "To create a life, a life must be taken," Arthur whispered, remembering his mother's words from all those years ago, his rage deflating.

"Yes, a life for a life. Your father never knew it would be your mother's, but neither did Nimueh. Yes, it was magic that took her life, but it was a decision that should never have come to fruition in the first place. Magic can't act without being directed, Arthur. People are responsible for the outcomes of their decisions, not the means by which they are carried out. That would be like shooting the messenger! Your father was warned, but he didn't give a damn until Ygraine died…She was the first to pay for his ignorance and foolishness. You think he would have started the purge for a peasant?"

Arthur was wavering, and he felt a headache threatening from all these vulgar revelations. And yet, there were far too many facts Merlin knew about, things he couldn't have access to. But if Morgause had been able to manipulate him with magic, surely Merlin had been able to do the same? Was this what he wanted? For Arthur to become so confused about magic and its role in everything and to turn against everything he had ever known? His eyes turned dark, the knot in his chest clenched.

"You think we'll believe you after that story you concocted just now?" His voice came out more questioning, seeming softened from the stance he had held previously. It took effort for him to consciously firm it until he came across with much more confidence than he actually felt. "After I saw you talking oh so casually to a beast that I had supposedly killed? Leon's right you are mad!" But Leon's face when the prince looked at him was as white as the finest linen and looking at the warlock with something akin to shock.

"I never told you any of that, about how I felt after the Druids saved me." It was the barest whisper and Arthur was amazed to note that the hand holding the now lowered sword was trembling. He wondered how much more the knight had actually heard considering Merlin spoke of the Cup of Life what felt like ages ago. Since this was the first thing that came out of Leon's mouth in quite some time, Arthur figured he'd been trying to sort it out himself and highly doubted he'd heard anything beyond that point. It seemed the sorcerer had information on both of them that was not generally available. And Merlin, his crystal blue eyes looking so much older than they ever had, turned gentle and coaxing. Yet another abrupt about face.

"You did, Leon. Or rather you would have after Camlann. When only you, Percival, Gaius, and Gwen were left of the original Round Table. Just after Gwen lifted the ban, I couldn't take the fact that it wasn't Arthur there at her side and ran out of the hall. You came looking for me." Merlin laughed again, this time with a fond exasperation. Leon was dumbstruck. "You all treated me like I was made of glass when it was Gwen that needed the support the most. There had been rather fierce opposition and having to face it all without her husband and when she was pregnant. It couldn't have been easy for her, but she was magnificent." His eyes found Arthur's and glistened with admiration, love. "You would have been so proud of her, Arthur. Every inch a Queen. It was the best decision you ever made marrying her! You need her, Arthur. She is your anchor in this world. Make her your queen and she will never steer you wrong." Both men seemed speechless, too much information to disseminate. Too much detail to be entirely ignored. Guinevere, alone. And with child. His heart broke just thinking of what she must have endured from his absence, the nobles, the knights, and even the magic folk. _My Guinevere._ Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to be manipulated by his heart. This never happened! He had to believe that.

"And the Druids?" he asked, when he was sure he found his stately voice. "How did you know that?" Arthur had to know, and was conscious of Leon looking at him with incredulous, yet haunted eyes.

"Elyan. He was possessed by the spirit of a Druid child after drinking water from the well of a ruined camp near Dinaden's Mount." Arthur started at the name. He remembered that camp; those screams, his feelings of being useless in the face of his men's recklessness and insubordination. "The boy took over his actions, tried to kill you and lured you back out to the site. You begged forgiveness for your orders and told him the Druids would be treated with respect from that day forward. You set his tortured spirit free." Arthur really couldn't picture it. _Him? Begging on bended knee?_ _And to a ghost that had made one of his trusted knights try to kill him?_

"I don't suppose you'll be doing that now, taking that first step for equality for all your citizens, including magic users." He sighed heavily. "As for the 'beast'? I presume you mean Khilgarrah? I had wondered how you found out. You followed me. You never were so observant when I was here before. Never looked beyond the end of your nose to see what was right in front of you." He laughed again, mocking. "How much did you hear?"

At Arthur's more than blank look and whispered, "None." Merlin laughed again, although by now it was more of a hiccupping sob than a true laugh.

"None of it? Well, isn't that just dandy! So then, how the hell did you figure my title? Emrys isn't something you hear very often!"

Arthur squared his shoulders refusing to be cowed in the wake of such overwhelming confusion "We heard you, in the tower. You admitted it from your own lips."

"And I haven't refuted any of it. But I'm a liar, right? So how reliable is your source? I never thought you would take my word for anything, Arthur. You surprise me! Even when I told you to your face I was a sorcerer, you told the council and your father that I was an idiot." Merlin scoffed and Arthur cringed. _Wait one damn minute. If Merlin confessed then, did that mean he really had healed Guinevere's father?_ _Healing others was not evil; it showed compassion._ All of this was dizzying to Arthur, a range of emotions coursing through him.

"You never have taken my word for anything. Why start now? You asked for truth and I gave it to you. Whether you believe me or not is up to you. It doesn't change the fact that it's not a story. It happened and I don't want to watch it again. I saw this kingdom built up to the stuff dreams are made of and then slowly tear itself apart, grind itself into dust and others take its place. I'm not insane. But you will never believe otherwise." Merlin's shoulders drooped and a note of defeat entered his voice as all the passion of moments ago seemed to drain back into weary regret.

"Merlin—"

"You know," he interrupted, cutting off whatever Arthur had to say. "If you wish to execute me, if you can find a way to kill me, I'd be very grateful. I don't think I can take much more. Now, I'm going back to Gaius' chambers or wherever you want to send me, and will remain there until you decide exactly how you want to do this. Perhaps, an axe to the neck since even I'm not sure how I'd survive having my head parted from the rest of my body? It's pretty much the only form of execution I haven't been subjected to yet! I'm sure if the Triple Goddess wants me alive, she'll find a way."

He made his way over to the door frowning heavily at Leon's body standing statue still, blocking the exit, sword aimed unerringly at his heart once again, though he now looked extremely conflicted. It was exactly what Arthur was feeling. On one hand, he wanted to just forget this whole afternoon. Pretend it had never happened. But it had, and now he would have to work his way through a mountain of quite frankly bizarre dialogue and try to work out what the hell it all meant. But he couldn't un-hear that damning conversation, couldn't 'bury his head' as Merlin so aptly put it, and until such a time as he knew what on Earth to make of it all, he could not allow Merlin free run of the place. The cell it would be, an uncomfortable place at best, but damn him for putting him in this position to start with!

"Will you let me pass? Or do I warrant an escort?" Arthur's demeanour hadn't softened at all. If anything it had hardened further, all the finer emotions seeming to have been erased. Merlin muttered to himself under his breath in a singsong voice of sarcastic gloom, "Of course, I do. I'm a dangerous, mentally ill magic user after all!"

"Take him down to the sorcerer's cell." And again, he sounded like his father when all he wanted to do was go hide in a corner like he used to when he was five and had been severely reprimanded during sword practice. But he wasn't a child any longer. He was the Prince regent of a strong kingdom and had a decision to make that could potentially tear his heart out. He would be strong enough though, he had to be. He handed Leon the length of chain that fastened the cuffs together at the base of his spine as Merlin turned obediently for the restraints.

"I've no wish to fight you, Arthur. I wish you would believe that. I'm tired of it, this constant struggle. I've watched every single person I have ever loved leave me for a place I can't follow. I don't want to have to do that again. I wish I'd never come back, but fate it seems has decided my life is not cruel enough. Just do me one favour, please, Arthur. Look closely at your uncle. He's not as virtuous as he makes out, and talk to Geoffrey. He knows more than he would ever say unless you ask."

Arthur now looked if anything even more murderous. Agravaine was his last living relative that he trusted with his life, and Merlin even had condemnation for him too. Merlin saw this coming by Arthur's expression, and it almost made him laugh harshly again. Arthur would never believe him now. Would give him a public trial and schedule his execution, and Merlin would hover on the brink of death for painful weeks after whilst his magic healed him, longer if they didn't remove the cuffs. He only hoped Arthur wouldn't burn him. That was a painful punishment, and just as painful to recover from. He shuddered just thinking of it, as he knew it from experience.

Nothing more was said as Leon pulled him almost gently out of the door. There didn't need to be a decision right now. Arthur had too much to sort out, and would make up his mind in his own time.

Hopefully, Merlin had given him enough fuel to go find his own answers. This difference in the timeline was monumental, a game changer. His magic coming to light five years earlier than it had been. He wasn't entirely sure whether that would hasten Arthur's death or make no difference. The only thing worrying him now was what Arthur would do to the rest of the magical community now that this had all come to light. Would it help, or hinder?

He just wished he knew with certainty what his being here was supposed to achieve. He would just have to ride it out. Since the Triple Goddess was the one to interfere, he had to hope this was all intended to happen. If it wasn't? Well…then, God help them all!


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N I know a lot of people are waiting on the knights reactions to Merlin collapsing and then being out of it, but it will be a little while longer for it folks sorry! This needs to be here then we can see what everyone else thinks. He He.**

 **Once again I have big huggish thanks for Doberler my marvelous Beta.**

 **And Merlin still isn't mine. Nor are the stars funnily enough!**

 **...**

Keys to the past.

Chapter 16.

Arras thought of himself as a good soldier. Not the best certainly; he hadn't trained with weapons for as long as a lot of his contemporaries, but good enough to be trusted as a royal guardsman. And he took his job very seriously.

The same could not be said of his fellow. He had no clue how Drin had been picked but he really didn't trust him. The man seemed interested only in lining his own pocket and taking as much liberty with rest breaks as was humanly possible. He gambled and drank to excess, even more so than that new knight Gwaine was reputed to do; and he highly doubted he or his clothes had seen any water for weeks. He wondered, not for the first time, why he was allowed anywhere near the royal wing, let alone as one of the guards of the prince regent. Surely there were better and more deserving candidates? But the man had been recommended personally by the regent's uncle, Agravaine, so who was he to argue. There must be something more than what was readily apparent about him for such a suggestion by a well respected member of the royal family.

He sighed inaudibly once again as he glanced across at Drin's scowl. He hated having shifts with him and would happily swap for doubles if anyone would take his spot. But everyone else despised Drin just as much it seemed, and laughed at the mere suggestion.

The prince had come back earlier, carrying something, and the man's eyes had looked curious. Arras knew better than to look too closely at the affairs of those he served. It was more than his job's worth. Anyone knew that. So Drin's reaction had been a little suspect, as had his almost joyous reaction when Sir Leon stopped to give them further instruction, the Prince's manservant in tow.

He had to admit that being told to take a break right then was a little strange, but he was not going to look too deeply into it since the order came from Prince Arthur's second in command. His fellow guardsman, however, warranted a closer look, since he really didn't like his too eager and anticipatory glances at Sir Leon's retreating figure. Recommendation by the regent's uncle or not, the man seemed to be taking advantage.

Which was why when Drin moved away, Arras decided to surreptitiously follow him. He needed to make sure of the man. He was after all responsible for the safety of Camelot's regent. It could be nothing, but his instincts were one of the reasons he had been recommended to this post by his commander instead of going into the regular army. He would much rather be wrong and feel the sting of humiliation than know he hadn't checked out every possibility and realised he had put people's lives in danger.

Ten minutes later and Arras began to think he was mistaken. Peering out from an alcove at the far end of the long corridor, Drin was heading down in the direction of the barracks. He sighed, and thought seriously about going back to his own room via the kitchen. The man hadn't been acting suspiciously at all now, had just walked about the castle. And then instead of just walking straight past, he looked around guardedly and seeing no one around, he turned left and headed up a short flight of servants stairs he knew would lead back towards the quarters reserved for the royals. _What was the man doing?_

If he carried on after him he would be spotted. There was nowhere to hide along that stretch. Or he could go back the way he came and hide in another alcove, mostly covered by a tapestry, just at the junction of where the stairs met the corridor outside the prince's chambers, and which gave a view of most of the other doors. He would, however, have to hurry.

He ran, and made it into the small space, smoothing the fabric back into place with only moments to spare, his breath coming out quick and harsh as Drin came down the other staircase, looking around to see if anyone would interrupt. Satisfied there were no witnesses, he put his ear and eye to the keyhole of the prince's rooms and after a moment or two, began to grin from ear to ear with a look of purely feral satisfaction.

Arras closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He had so hoped he was wrong. Well, eavesdropping on the prince was a sackable offence even if done for mere sick curiosity. If, however, he held a more treasonous reason for doing so, the man would be executed. Was he working for himself, or someone else? Arthur's uncle would not be pleased his recommendation was given for such a low life as Drin.

It felt like forever, standing there watching him, debating within himself as to the merits of following further or confronting him now. Could they afford to have him spill whatever the prince and Leon were discussing? But if he went after him now, they may lose any opportunity to find out who he might be working for. This was not a decision he was comfortable making for this situation. He needed to get this to the prince, or better yet the guard commander, and let him deal with it since the prince was more likely to take his commander's word over his own.

The decision was taken out of his hands when Drin stiffened suddenly, took a few steps back, and fled down to the end of the corridor past his hiding place. Arras shrank back trying to make himself as small as possible and hoping he would not be seen. There was no worry of that, he never looked, just went round the bend and then kept peeking out waiting for something. He briefly wondered what, but he didn't have long to ponder as Sir Leon emerged pulling a cuffed Merlin out of the door.

Arras's mouth gaped in shock. _Merlin was being arrested? What for?_ Everyone in Camelot knew Merlin and his odd relationship with the prince, and the fact that Prince Arthur had begun to soften when the man became his servant. Began in fact, to really look at the plight of the common people, unlike the king who saw the peasantry as merely a means to an end. The two men shared an uncommon bond, so to see Merlin shackled and being led in the direction of the dungeon, well, it made him feel as if he had been punched.

And then Drin was on the move again. Past the alcove but turning opposite to the direction Leon had taken. Arras' feet seemed to move of their own accord. _Where was he going now?_ The second shock of the day came only moments later when Drin knocked on Lord Agravaine's door and was ushered in as if he were expected.

Was he going to go the way of Drin and listen in on the nobility? Not on his life! He turned smartly on his heal and made his way back to the prince's chambers. He could not let this pass! He only hoped the prince would actually believe him. Guardsman or not, Uther would have never taken his word for it, that Drin was spying on the regent, possibly for his own uncle? Why else would the man go straight to him? This would not be a comfortable conversation.

…...

The cell was tiny, round and deep, with no windows and accessed via a ladder through a trapdoor of the deepest dungeons. It would have been pitch black if Leon had not left the grate on the hatch open. A small concession that Merlin was very grateful for. Light from the torches above cast dim illumination upon the wall, even that small amount of light just made the shadows seem deeper somehow. A sorcerer's cell, cruelly fashioned to isolate, contain, and terrify anyone with an inkling of humanity, sorcerer or not.

The faint glimmer reflected off the metallic surface of the bands around his wrists. The shackles were silver, etched deeply with runes and symbols of the Old Religion. Exquisitely crafted, beautiful in a way. If worn by anyone without magic, they would look like extremely expensive jewellery. He knew several people from 21st century England who would give their right arm to own such works of art.

But Merlin did have magic. Was in fact made of the stuff, and he could feel the hollow ache that seemed to be slowly consuming him. As of one who was starving and being made to sit and look at a feast with no way to touch it.

Merlin was no stranger to having his magic suppressed or his access to it cut off completely, and each time he had become ill, the sickness getting worse the longer he remained without. He had always managed to regain the use of his magic either through his own efforts or that of others. The symptoms taking a long time to heal but always fading eventually, and he had theorised, that magic was his life's blood, the reason he could not in fact die from any conventional means. And he wondered if this was the time he might bleed out, be able to finally succumb. The symptoms and sickness were excruciating after a few days and he had never been able to endure it, becoming delirious with the pain those few times he had been unable to free himself of his own accord. He was not looking forward to such agony, but oh, to be allowed to just **rest** once it had run its course.

He was tired of staying strong in the face of adversity. Just how much misfortune was a body supposed to withstand before it broke?

But no! He couldn't think like that, should never give up. And these only suppressed his magic, acted like a mirror when he tried to access it, bouncing his own power unerringly back at him. But he knew how to counteract them, had done it before in fact. If he only filtered a small steady stream of his power into them, they would eventually break. It would just be painful, very painful. But pain he could deal with. He'd had years without number of practice with it.

… **..**

 _Was it true?_

That was the penultimate question, was it not? Could Arthur put aside his extreme scepticism and really look at what Merlin had said as fact?

His mind screamed at him to just treat it as the ravings of an unstable madman. That the magic he wielded had claimed yet another victim. And yet he could not discount his sincerity, those facts he couldn't possibly know about Leon and him who would as soon bite off their own foot than reveal their innermost secrets willingly.

And his talk of death had scared him, when there was not much now that could. His attitude had shown he would have honestly welcomed it. What kind of experience could do that to a person who held such a zest for life? Merlin's had always been the optimism that spurred them on. He was the man that never gave in, even when he should. To find he was not only a magic user, but that in less than a day he had become so bitterly broken sent shivers down his spine. _How could this have happened to Merlin in so short a span of time?_

 _Could it possibly be true?_

That headache had made good on its promise, and dug deep into Arthur's head, his very soul for that matter. He was becoming maudlin, depression eating at him. Merlin had spun so fantastical a tale of time travel, goddesses, and destiny that he had to have lost his senses. What was he to do with Merlin, a friend he'd trusted for many years, and treated as a younger brother in his own bullish way? What _was_ he to do if it were true? Or worse, what would he do if it were not? He needed this sorted out, and quickly. He needed to speak with Gaius, and Geoffrey, and not because his possibly mad manservant told him it was needful. But because his own conscience demanded an explanation of the time before his birth.

He pressed two fingers against his temples to ease the blinding tension, eyes shut tight, breathing deeply. What was he to think? The knock on his chamber door came as a reprieve, and a very welcomed one that pulled him from the rampaging turmoil of his thoughts.

"Enter." He half expected Guinevere, knowing that she probably would have learned what had happened to Gaius by now and seeking him out with due cause and impassioned admonishments, something he admittedly wasn't really looking forward to, or even Gaius. Lords above! That man was stubborn enough to evade even Percival's guarding abilities. But he didn't expect the nervous looking guardsman who shuffled inside. Arras swallowed the lump in his throat at Arthur's surprise that quickly morphed into a stern, and obviously unwelcomed glare. Maybe he should have gone to the guard commander first after all. "What is it?"

"Begging your pardon, my lord, but I'm one of your chamber guardsmen. I…" Arras wavered again, desperately searching for the words that had suddenly decided to crawl back into his throat. He was about to commit himself to an action that could see his career, even his very life cease, and there would be no going back afterwards. But wasn't this why he was appointed to the position after all? His loyalty was to the crown, to the safety of Prince Arthur. Still, he hesitated. Agravaine was royalty, too. He steeled himself. Courage was, after all, a commodity he had never been short of.

After the evening he had just experienced, Arthur was in no mood for a reticent guard too timorous now for whatever he thought was important enough to disturb him before. "Out with it, man. If you have something to say, get on and say it!"

The man's pale features whitened further, but he straightened his shoulders as the honour guard he was none the less. "It's my fellow guardsman, my lord. Sir Leon relieved us both of duty, but there was something about his—actions that made me…suspect. I-I followed him. I…I caught him listening at your chamber door just now."

Arthur saw red, and Arras had to steady himself from taking a fearful step back. That conversation with Merlin could bring chaos down on the kingdom. What he had told Leon in that tower had been correct. If people knew that he had unwittingly harboured a sorcerer all these years, one so close to the crown, their faith and confidence in him could be shattered, especially if he could not carry out his own father's laws against sorcery; something he was not entirely sure he could do, despite the necessity. It could even appear that Merlin's strong influence went far beyond normal, and that he had, in fact, an enchantment on the prince. He would never regain their trust. And with a father still suffering the effects of his sister's betrayal…the kingdom would be ripe for every warmongering, autocrat that decided to come along.

Arthur looked at the guard, Arras, if he remembered the man's name right. Why had he not brought his fellow with him? "Where is he now?"

"With Lord Agravaine, Sire. He went directly to his chambers."

The breath left Arthur's lungs, and he fought very hard to contain his composure. No! Why would Agravaine have a guard listening at his door? Even if his uncle was just concerned for him, that was going beyond the pale. And why would the man be concerned for him now? When he was supposedly safe in his chambers, with a trusted knight and in a time of was a serious betrayal of privacy. It could not be true!

Arthur stormed from the room, the guard stepping back hastily out of the way. "Find Sir Leon, Arras. He was taking a prisoner to the cells. Bring him to my uncle's chambers and speak of this to no one." The low pitched rumble was well controlled, his face hard and unyielding. Arras nodded once, surprised, but pleased that the prince remembered his name, and shot off down the hall toward the dungeon levels, whilst Arthur turned his reluctant self toward yet another relative with questionable morals.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N Now I know some of you might be a little miffed that It's been a while between updates, however in my defence I have written two chapters. It was just that I wrote scenes that were supposed to be in 17 then realised they'd be better in 18 and vice versa so hey you get two for the price of one. Many, many thanks to Doberler for once again hauling me out of my grammatic and creative mire, You are amazeballs!**

 **Wish I owned even ONE Merlin character let alone two. Ah me cest l'amour.**

 **...**

Keys to the Past.

Chapter 17.

"Get out!" The dagger flew across the dimly lit room stopping just shy of Agravaine's startled face. "You'd best have a very good reason for being out here in the middle of the night, Agravaine, and disturbing me yet again."

Morgana was more than merely irritated. Her dream vision had been a little disturbing to be honest, and she'd sat with a cup of chamomile tea for the best part of an hour trying to calm her nerves once more, only for her to be rudely awoken yet again just as she'd managed to drift off. Bloody man! Surely whatever he'd come here for could have waited till morning. She was in no mood to listen to him.

"I have news of a certain irritating manservant of our dear Arthur."

"Merlin?" she scoffed. "You came out here disturbing my sanctuary, risking discovery with the late hour merely for one thorn? Unless he's dead, dying or severely injured to the point of death, I'm not interested."

"Indeed, Morgana. Though I'm sure you will be suitably amazed at **this** news. It seems the boy has gotten himself arrested." He paused for obvious dramatic effect, though Morgana felt ready to strangle him, or better yet, find a spell that could wipe his memory of who he was and sell him to a travelling show. He'd probably fit right in.

"Not death then, Agravaine? Merlin has been arrested before. Why should this interest me now?" Her tone was cutting and his smile slipped further, this whole conversation not going as he had expected. He had wanted to impress her.

"But that is just it, my lady. He's as good as dead. He's been arrested by Arthur himself, for sorcery!" The news did not seem to give the intended effect. Morgana merely looked murderous, but not it seemed at Merlin.

"And again, Agravaine: he's been arrested before. The worm always manages to wriggle off the hook." Agravaine's smile disappeared completely at Morgana's continued disbelief and anger directed squarely toward himself.

"But it seems there were witnesses to his guilt. Sir Leon was most aggressive toward the boy by all accounts. My spy could not make everything out through the door, but he quite clearly heard the confession from the boy's own lips; **and** his condemnation of Uther. There is no doubt. Perhaps, we have found another ally?"

"No!" The shout was out before her conscious mind could process even one tenth of what he had said. Her emotional outburst caused the fire in the pit to flare, all the shelves to shake, and several items of furniture and pottery to smash.

How could Agravaine be stupid enough to think Merlin would side with them? That she would **allow** him to side with them? He had tried to kill her, use her as a bargaining tool. She would never see him as anything other than an enemy to be eradicated. "No. If Merlin does indeed have magic, then that boy is a traitor to his own kind!" There was so much venom in the words Agravaine took an unconscious step back.

Why had he been in Camelot? Had he had magic all that time? Or like her had developed it later? He had never shown any signs of it before, but that did not mean anything. He could have been in hiding. He was a hypocrite. Just like her father. Just like Gaius. But he was worse. He was a traitorous hypocrite. The rage built, slowly but surely, burning into her reasoning. Had he learnt magic to try and stop her? Or had he held it all that time and never told her. Had he enjoyed watching her drown in her own fears?

The force of her fury at the knowledge of Merlin's magic swept the now satisfied smirk from Agravaine's face again at the sheer destruction she could cause. Backing out of the maelstrom that was her home, he fled with sparks of fear dancing in his eyes and with a speed that the hounds of hell might envy. Morgana grabbed a tiny vial from her shelf and stalked after him, determined that Merlin and she would have words. And if Merlin was lucky, he would not be alive at the end of them.

If not? Well then, his fear would possibly be equal to that which he had blatantly ignored. And yet for him there would be no rescue, no saviour in the form of a blond-haired angel to help, heal, and succour.

He was a physician's apprentice. He would understand what the little bottle held, and he should appreciate the irony of being given a taste of his own medicine!

...

Gwen had never been more disturbed in her life than when Merlin had stumbled down those steps last evening, shivering and looking completely haunted.

The only other time he had looked so vulnerable had been in the first year he had been here and drank poison for a prince he had confessed not to even like. That had been the one act that had secured her, and indeed the whole of the servant class', affections.

This time was different, in that he was conscious, and mobile and not in danger of dying from a magically enhanced poison. But despite this he seemed, if anything, even more frail. She would have laughed at herself for the thought, that the Merlin she had seen last night had been more in danger than one that had been lying there at death's door. But she could not deny what her heart saw.

She needed to see him. Make sure that the image she had been faced with was merely a product of whatever nightmare Gwaine had thought Merlin had experienced, or as he had kept repeating to himself, some kind of hallucination brought on by his exhaustion and subsequent collapse.

Her duties had regrettably kept her away today. The aftermath of any feast always caused more work to clear up the detritus, and with her self-imposed duties to Uther it made her day twice as full. She had now finished for the night, her last check of the king showing him peacefully sleeping.

It was with mixed feelings that she made her way through the castle and knocked on Gaius's door.

Percival could not remember a time when he had felt so embarrassed. Merlin was a friend, and so by extension was Gaius. Those men had patched him up, given him encouragement, treated him as family. Gaius was a sort of uncle and Merlin a younger brother. It had been with a heavy heart that he had accompanied Leon to the physician's quarters.

He had no idea why Merlin had been taken for questioning, nor why he had to keep Gaius on house arrest. Leon hadn't elaborated and when he had tried to argue for the character of both men, even going so far as to say that both he and the prince were mad to consider Merlin in any criminal capacity, Leon had turned to him and threatened him with not just severe discipline for himself, but with another of the older knights as Gaius' guard, a man who would most certainly follow his orders blindly and treat the physician badly merely because he could. He had agreed only reluctantly, and only to protect him from that fate, but he still could not meet his eyes. He could only wonder what they would think of him. What Gwaine and Lancelot would think of him once they returned and figured out his role.

Gaius, of course, was extremely astute, and after checking his bruised shoulder, which was the excuse he used for being there in the first place, he sat back and regarded him thoughtfully.

"Apart from the shoulder, which should not be bothering you now, unless pressed on too hard, what exactly are you doing here?"

Percival didn't answer. Couldn't really. What was he to say? _'I'm sorry, Gaius. Merlin has been arrested for gods know what and is to be questioned under guard whilst I sit here keeping account on your movements and making note of any visitors from contacting you in case you or they have been a party to said unknown crime!_ '

It was rather ridiculous, and though Leon was not exactly known for his humour and usually frowned severely on any practical jokes instigated amongst the men, he kept expecting that he would suddenly lunge out from behind the door laughing uproariously at the sheer gullibility of Percy thinking Merlin capable of illicit activities.

The silence stretched uncomfortably as he frantically sought an excuse for his being here that would be plausible, but allow him to do his job. He couldn't think of a single thing. Gaius looked at him with an ever widening frown and visibly deepening anxiety. It was broken only by the knock and the door opening to reveal Gwen stepping lightly into the room.

She spared a sympathetic glance and smile at Percy's bandaged shoulder, and then turned all her attention to the door of Merlin's room.

"Is he still unwell, Gaius? The servants said one of the new staff had taken over for the day. Can I see him?" She made to take a step towards the room only for Gaius to call her back.

"He's not here, Gwen. The prince asked for him earlier." It should have been reassuring that Merlin had been back with his master, but there was a note in the physician's voice that screamed of protectiveness, and that was discordant if all that had happened was the prince asking for his manservant.

"Should he have gone back to work so soon? Did you find out why he collapsed then?"

"Not…entirely."

And there was that hesitation and off tone, and an expression directed toward Percy she couldn't interpret, except the physician had never looked at any of them with such distrust before. And there was Percy squirming in his chair as if reprimanded for stealing sweetmeats. Just what had happened now? Bad enough that Merlin had collapsed, but now it seemed battle lines had been drawn over something to do with him and she was very concerned as to the whys, and exactly what side she should be on.

"Then you had best fill me in on this _'not entirely';_ and you, Sir Percival, will tell me what on earth is going on between you two, since something is going on that I don't like the look of, and I **will** get to the bottom of it."

Gwen's face and stance had taken on all the overprotective zeal of a mother bear with cubs and there would be no denying her. This was Arthur's chosen bride for all they had made no formal declaration. She was their future queen, and as a knight there were certain expectations of behaviour, not to mention her skill at seeing right to the heart of any matter with very little evidence. Percival knew when he was beaten. Gaius he may have had a chance at telling a half truth and getting away with it. Gwen? He had no hope of doing the same.

He settled in for a very uncomfortable evening.

...

The crowned prince regent of Camelot stood idle, staring out of the window, watching the last stars wink out of existence and streaks of scarlet paint the sky as the sun rose majestically over the horizon.

His uncle had left last night. He must have only been minutes behind him, and yet it had not been enough to stop him. He was long gone now, to whosoever required the information that Arthur's household was in shambles. And he had not seen him return as yet. What exactly could they do with the information that Merlin had magic? Quite a lot if Agravaine could rally the council into an immediate execution.

He couldn't even say what Merlin's death might do to him. He really couldn't. He just could not order it. It had been hard enough when it was some nameless peasant seen spelling his crops, or a woman granting healing to her neighbour. It had never been so personal before.

And the worst of it was that Arthur now knew some of his unbelievable tale was truth. So how much more was there that they could all dismiss merely because there was little evidence, only for it to be an actuality? Could he really uphold the laws his father set down and taught him to value?

It was a burden, the responsibility of power. That part he did understand. One that Arthur would gladly shoulder in order to keep people safe. And happy, he must not forget the lesson of keeping his subjects happy. That was one area Arthur had disagreed with his father on for the last few years. Uther ruled with an iron fist encased in a silk glove. One small delicate barrier all that stood between his wrath and peace.

It was as if he only saw a bunch of mewling toddlers when he looked at the common people, children who could not think for themselves. Not individuals who could reason, and feel, and make their own decisions. He valued the nobility above all, even when said nobility was not worth anything. His rule of the knights only coming from the ranks of noble sons being a case in point.

Lancelot, Percival, Elyan, and Gwaine were some of the finest fighters he had ever seen, and he had been training knight recruits since he had gained his command at the tender age of fifteen. They had shown their mettle in real combat, when the odds seemed stacked so far against them to be unwinnable. And again that fleeting thought assaulted the prince as to Merlin's part in that last battle. And the slowly dawning realisation that if Merlin and Lancelot had not in fact gone off after the warning bell, since there had been no satisfactory explanation forthcoming as to why the bells had tolled as they were fighting in the dungeons, then a) Merlin had a much greater role in taking back the city than he had ever thought, and b) Lancelot must have known of his abilities.

God, would there ever be a time when the realisation didn't hurt? And now this, yet another betrayal from family. First his father's infidelity, and if Merlin were to be believed, his lies about his birth. Then Morgana. He had to concede she was not entirely to blame for her hatred, though she had still chosen to keep the fires of that passion going. Now Merlin, the man he thought could have been a younger brother in another life. He snorted at that. According to Merlin, he **had** lived another life.

By that count Agravaine was merely following the family tradition. The one that screamed that Arthur should be the recipient of no real family bond or love, since he couldn't be worthy of it the amount of times he had already been thrown over and betrayed.

So who was right? And who in the wrong?

...

Gwen found him still standing there long after the sun had burned off the early morning mist. Her tired eyes and angry countenance forestalled his greeting of affection.

"Where is Merlin?"

"Guinevere…"

"Don't you ' _Guinevere_ ' me, Arthur Pendragon." She squared off with him, every bit the authority of a queen-to-be." Percival said Leon had instructed him to keep Gaius under house arrest and Merlin had been taken to you for questioning! What on earth has he done? And more to the point, what have you done with him? He's not been back all night."

The pregnant pause stretched out, Gwen becoming ever more agitated. "Whatever it is Arthur, he is your friend."

Which only meant that whatever decision he came to would be twice as hard to figure out. His "friend" was a sorcerer…warlock…magic user in a land that had been against such practices for twenty-five years, and if Merlin had at last seen fit to grace him with the truth, he was the cause. His birth specifically, his mother's death even more so.

Arthur truly wanted to lash out and scream and deny everything, throw a royal tantrum and break his toys. It was what Merlin had called him, a child, and from the moment he had been so named he had felt like one. Even perhaps acted like one, sulking in a corner because things were going badly. Where was the statesman his father had raised? Where was the knightly courage? Or noble strength of a born prince?

"He has magic." It was quiet that admission, as if somehow saying it out loud made it more real than anything Merlin had shouted at him in his chambers. "He's a sorcerer." He used the word she would understand. The word he understood no matter that it was wrong.

"There must be some mistake. Who accused him?"

"He admitted it from his own mouth, Gwen." And though it was what he had thought he'd wanted at the time, it was almost a slap in the face to actually hear it.

Gwen's hands flew to her mouth, shock radiating through her for just one second before common sense kicked in, and she remembered this was Merlin they were discussing.

"Merlin's not a bad person, Arthur. There must be a good explanation for it." Her hands lowered and she looked at him with a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "Did you even ask him to explain or did you just throw him in the dungeon? You did, didn't you? I can't believe you, Arthur!" She whirled in a flurry of flying skirts fully prepared to march down to the dungeon herself to see him even if she had no power to free him. Flinging her voice back over toward the prince, she said, "I've been accused of sorcery before, Arthur, or have you forgotten that?"

"Guinevere, it is nothing like what you're imagining, so don't even…just stop."

Arthur's voice, so full of aching tension, halted her in her tracks. Gwen looked back at him, really looked. He was devastated. And her heart went out to him even as she berated herself for softening her stance towards him.

His hands came to his bowed head and started massaging his brow as if trying to rid himself of a headache. She took two steps toward him without conscious thought before she could stop herself. She was torn between her friend and her beloved, a place she'd been far too many times, and had hated each moment. But as always, she was compelled to do what was right no matter who would be wounded in the end.

"The things he said, about me, my father. What he had seen and done…I'm not sure what to think of anything anymore."

He had always sounded so strong before. Now he was just lost, and sympathy for such pain washed through her. But she loved them both, and she could imagine the desolation Merlin must be feeling right now too.

"So, what…? You throw him down there so you don't have to think?"

"You didn't see him, Gwen." Arthur paused, this even he had a hard time believing. "He said he was from the future. That he'd seen us all die! Tell me that's not strange."

"No!" Gwen's exclamation was just shy of a shout. It did not elicit the reaction Arthur had been looking for. Instead of outrage, there was merely astonishment, and a calculating pity, if pity can even be calculating.

Several connections made themselves known in Gwen's mind then, his seeming fragility yesterday. It had been so familiar, as if she had seen it before. And she had, hadn't she? She had seen that self-same haunted look in Morgana's eyes for so many years. It made far too much sense.

"Arthur, I saw him after his collapse. Heard what he said that night. He said it then, too. Told us we were all dead. He wasn't expecting us to be there, Arthur. And he was scared. I have never seen him like that before."

"Not just me, then?" He'd turned away again, back to the window that he looked out of with unseeing eyes. The sounds and sights of Camelot waking around him, a vista that usually filled him with a sense of pride, that here was his home. It was as ashes in his mind now.

"Arthur." His name was hesitant on Gwen's lips as if unsure how to proceed. "Gaius told me when Morgana betrayed us that she had visions of the future. That they drove her to distraction." Arthur's head had shot round at the first mention of his half-sister. Did Guinevere really think it such a good idea to bring her up now? Magic was, if possible even more, of a contentious issue within these walls, and with Merlin's recent revelation, it was even more so. But the former maid could match Arthur himself in courage.

"Could he have seen the future last night with his magic?" Arthur's head reared back, and his eyebrows shot up. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Arthur. It's a valid question. His actions, his mind-set. They reminded me of Morgana after one of her nightmares. Nightmares I now believe may have been so much more than that."

Arthur shifted his footing and sighed. He really didn't want to think about Morgana right now. But Merlin had brought her up in their confrontation, and now Gwen. He could not afford to dismiss anything. Every little clue must be examined before he rejected it out of hand.

Had Merlin seen the future? Could it be that simple? That the man had seen all those years ahead and was being driven, as Guinevere so aptly put it, to distraction? Was she making a solid case in his defence?

The magic itself was…he thought it was…Actually, he had no clue what to think of the magic. The whole had been a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky. Shocking, sudden, and freakishly destructive. Merlin and Agravaine, lost in one fell swoop. To think they had been happy yesterday, in their ignorance.

Merlin had been correct once more. Poison didn't just come in neatly labelled bottles, but in the painful words of dangerous secrets. It was becoming ever more marked that there had been some truth to his claims. Agravaine had betrayed him, to what end he didn't know. But having a spy at his door for a sensitive conversation and then immediately setting out to destination unknown was too much evidence to ignore.

It seemed almost too convenient, contrived, as if Merlin had somehow conjured the circumstances. And yet he couldn't help questioning why he would have warned him with such vagueness now, when it was quite obvious he would never have taken a second look. Unless Merlin had known long before, and had taken the one opportunity of warning him that he thought he would ever get, no matter that he wouldn't believe him. It was something Merlin, the Merlin he knew at any rate, would do.

And if that were truth, then how much more had there been?

He had been silent too long. Gwen stood at his side, studying the emotions battling across his features, a steady presence that didn't need words to shore his flagging spirit, his lantern in the darkness. _My Guinevere, my queen._

"How do I determine the truth from this? How do I go on? Everyone…everyone betrays me." He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, a look of confusion in her eyes at his choice of words. "All but you."

She covered his hand with hers, understanding some the truth of his statement now, and her heart ached for him. "I'm so sorry, Arthur."

"It breaks my heart, but you understand the law as well as I."

"Arthur, I have been there before. In the place he is now. Accused of magic and with no hope of absolution. I know full well the hopelessness of those condemned. The unfairness of knowing nothing you say will change the mind of your accuser, or your judge. You are a fairer man than your father, Arthur." She held his face in her hands, her eyes full of compassion. "I've seen you at the executions of those condemned for healing someone, or those just trying to provide for their families. Please let him explain. I **cannot** see Merlin as a traitor no matter if he has magic."

Arthur pulled away, thinning his lips, shaking his head. It was a game of tug of war, live or die, pure and simple, and he just couldn't come to terms with either outcome. Not yet anyway.

"He is your friend. Please don't shut him out. Perhaps if we had seen Morgana's struggles sooner, she may never have turned her back on us? She had those nightmares when we were children, Arthur. If she had those, then perhaps she had magic all that time too."

"Perhaps. Merlin said he was born with it. That he never…chose it." The admission seemed torn from him. And yes, he could see the implications of the unfairness in such a case. To be condemned to death from birth for something which you never had control. But it was not merely just magic, or even an admission of lies, or a potentially unstable man wielding such power, but a combination of everything that rocked him. His father's beliefs, Morgana's motivations, Merlin and the mess he now represented. The fact that if even part of what Merlin had said about the purge was true, then he had been party to wholesale slaughter, and there had been too much sincerity for it not to be.

And if that and Agravaine's betrayal were proved, then the rest, no matter how disturbing or farfetched or downright implausible, would need to be amended. It was that, which threw him. That which gave him so much pain. That which made him so much more irrationally infuriated. He latched on to the one thing his mind seemed to stick to every time he thought of it.

"He lied to me. To me! About so much that I now doubt my own merits, my own worth and existence! It turns out I am a fool!"

"Will you wallow in self-pity, Arthur?" Guinevere's words were so gentle, a contrast to the harshness of the statement itself. She could read him like a book. "Please don't. I think, perhaps, we should look at it from another perspective. What would you have done in Merlin's place?"

In his heart he couldn't answer. It just made everything worse. But he fell back on his anguish. "I thought I knew him. I thought I knew them all."

And in his heart he couldn't answer. It just made everything worse.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N As promised treat no 2. Don't say I never give you anything!**

 **...**

Keys to the Past.

Chapter 18.

The muffled sounds of riding boots shuffling on stone steps brought Merlin out of the trance-like doze he had fallen into, the better to control the magic he willed into the microscopic crevices within the forged bands. If the grate hadn't been open he would never have heard it, nor the soft voices, one of which was so achingly familiar. With the tongue lashing Merlin had blistered the prince's ears with last eve, he had not expected a visit again so soon. Merlin could not regret those words, painful and revealing as they had been. They had been too long unsaid. Far, far too long.

The light became a little brighter as a torch was swung to glare directly over the hatch, and Merlin looked up to see the pensive face of Arthur staring back.

"Here again?" The prince didn't say anything, just watched with a frown of deep puzzlement. "Still can't fathom me out?" The lightness of Merlin's tone was belied by the tightness of his eyes and the pain etched deeply into his face. He still remembered the last occasion he had said that to his prince, though it would be lost on him. "What do you want, Arthur?"

"How did you know about Agravaine?"

"Ah. Done something to offend you, has he? I wonder what it could be this time."

"I'm in no mood to be trifled with, Merlin!"

Merlin sighed at the anger in the regent's voice. He held himself tense and wary. A deer caught in headlights. "I thought we'd been over this? This has all happened before."

Arthur's jaw tightened. "And I have no proof of that! It's too extraordinary. Everything you said…you…you demand too much. And I can't…"

But Merlin did know, those words from his father that he had always been and always would be. He hadn't taken as much heed of them as he should have until all evidence pointed to their truth. He couldn't offer the same affirmation to his friend, and so Merlin wearily tried to explain as best he could.

"Your uncle is a traitor, Arthur. He blames you for his sister's death. Well, you and Uther. But since **he's** not exactly responsive, he's getting his revenge through you." Merlin exhaled, and shifted on the cold floor. "He's working with Morgana; visits her in her hut. Makes plans to disrupt anything that could be considered good for the kingdom, and undermines every decision you make."

"Those are unsubstantiated accusations. I asked how you knew."

"You really can't take anything I say at face value, can you?" He sat back against the cool stone and contemplated everything he knew. Everything that had happened before, and that might give insights to his story.

He sighed again. Even if he told him of that other timeline, it had changed, and would of a certainty not be the same. All he could do was hope the details gave Arthur enough drive to look more closely.

"Every bit of evidence I have is from a time I have lived and you have not. A time that now may never come to pass. I doubt you will like the future it held."

"Convenient. Isn't it?" Merlin scowled at him but his next words drew his brows down even further in surprise and calculation. "Try me." They were forced through gritted teeth, as if he were daring him to make him believe it.

Well, all right then, if that was how he wished it. He made himself a little more comfortable against the dank wall and considered where to start.

"The first hint I had to Agravaine's misplaced loyalty in that alternate time was after the Dorocha had been sent back to the Other World and the veil healed."

Arthur startled, back to the Dorocha again? More ghosts.

"Yes, Arthur. Morgana **did** open the veil last time by sacrificing her sister. I collapsed at the feast because the magical backlash hit me rather hard. It was opposing forces colliding. My magic is of Life, and the wave unleashed by the veil tearing is Death. My magic could not work when the Dorocha were close. It was as if they absorbed it since they are the absence of life, the embodiment of the realm of the dead." His voice was ever so soft, but Arthur heard him clearly.

"We didn't know what it was until Dreya turned up from Howden, a village east of the White Mountains. She was twelve years old, and the only survivor. The Dorocha had killed everyone else, their very life frozen in their veins." Merlin shuddered remembering that time. The frosted faces and sightless eyes as haunting as all else.

"They existed in the dark and only the light of the torches and the sunlight could keep them at bay. They could not be killed because they were already dead, shadows and spirits. It had taken a sacrifice to open the veil and the Cailleach demanded another to seal it. You wanted to offer yourself, you selfless prat. I knocked you out, was going to take your place, but Lancelot…" Merlin choked back the sob threatening to spill out. "Lancelot stepped through first, beat me to it. Stupid man. Stupid, stupid man. I should have known he would do something like that. I would have stopped him, and I guess he knew that. He really was the noblest of us all." Merlin seemed to be reliving the entire event, his face streaked now with tears. He shuttered, swiped the moisture from his face with a sleeve, then buried those feelings as if they had not existed at all.

"After the memorial, Agravaine came to see Gaius. I heard him from my room. He asked after a sorcerer by the name of Emrys. The only way he could have heard that name was if Morgana had told him. I think she dreamed of it, or someone had told her that Emrys was her destiny and her doom. She feared me."

Arthur's jaw tightened further, imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him, but a shout of his turmoil to anyone who did. There was the name Emrys again. Merlin's other self. Just how powerful was this man that even Morgana trembled at the name?

"And then there was your father's death."

Arthur made a sound of distress, and Merlin gave him a glance full of sympathy. This would not be easy to hear. "Entertainers had been arranged for your birthday feast. Acrobats, dancers, jugglers. The knife thrower was an assassin sent by Odin, hired in Wenham to drug you so your reflexes would be completely impaired, and then to kill you. I just thought you were drunk, but you'd insisted on a visit to your father after the feast ended, and by then, the drug was almost in full effect, and the assassin chose that time to strike.

Merlin waited for only a second to let his words sink in.

"You were down, Arthur, and Uther defended you, killed the assassin but took the blade of a dagger that touched his heart. He was bleeding internally and would have died in a few days." Merlin paused not really wanting to relay the next part.

At his silence, Arthur prompted him with a tight question. " _Would have?"_

"You decided to use magic." And there it was, as plain and sure as death itself.

"You expect me to believe that!"

It was just as explosive as Merlin had thought it would be.

"Your exact words to me were _'If you were me, if it was your father, would you use magic to save his life?'_." He looked into Arthur's eyes and saw the same apprehension as he'd seen then. "If I hadn't said yes, he would have died by an assassin's blade and you would have grieved, but not hated. As it was…" He ran his hands through his hair, checking himself when the cuffs jolted at contact with his head and hissing slightly in pain. He stared at them for a moment, Arthur becoming more and more impatient.

"What? You healed him and all was right with the world?" He expected a dirty look at least, but Merlin seemed lost in the world he wove through his words. It did not seem a happy place.

"It wasn't that easy. Nothing ever is here." He sighed again, almost weary of talking to the brick wall that was Arthur Pendragon. "You told Agravaine about using magic, and he went to Morgana. Between them, a necklace was placed round his neck, enchanted to reverse any healing magic performed on the king and amplify it tenfold."

" _What?_ " Arthur was disgusted at the thought that his uncle could commit regicide, treason against the crown let alone his family, so much so that his stomach twisted like a wet knotted rope.

"I was in disguise. When I summoned the spell, it worked. Uther opened his eyes and smiled at you. You were so relieved, so happy, and I thought we were one step closer to acceptance…for all of ten seconds. Then the amulet kicked in, and the magic I'd used to heal him, killed him instead. You tried to run me through with your sword, but I had to defend myself and blasted you with a spell to push you away…You…later called all magic evil, said that you'd lost both parents to magic and that you'd never lose sight of that fact again. It was the day I lost all hope of being free. Impetuous, gullible sod that I was, I didn't deserve to be free after that. I should have known you'd go to your uncle. You trusted and respected him, I understand. But I should have checked for interference. I knew it was going too well. I shouldn't have been surprised I was not allowed, or supposed, to give you a good impression of magic. God forbid something should go right for once."

"Merlin…" Arthur didn't know what to think anymore. If anyone else were to come to him with tales of a future he hadn't yet lived, shouldn't they be ones of happiness, of good fortune? Ones he'd want to come true? Hero's tales of inspiration and hope, not death, deception, and fingers of blame pointing unerringly towards the tale bearer.

There was a short pause, uncomfortable, and Arthur wondered if he had finished. But he started up again before he could even half form the thought to say he'd heard enough, for now.

"Caerleon is the one that has been raiding across your western border. He took the village of Stonedown…will take it; hasn't happened yet." That last little aside was under Merlin's breath as if trying to remind himself of what was and what would be.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. Sure, Merlin was present during most if not all of the council meetings, but how could he be so sure it was Caerleon when there was nothing to prove it with? There was no treaty with that kingdom, but there was no malice between them for many decades either. So why blatantly accuse them?

"When we rode out you used me as bait, dressed me in chainmail and sent me running. I did not appreciate the exercise. I can outrun most of your men true, but doing it in chainmail with one of those infernal cloaks, and then being caught in a gully with no weapon I could use was not exactly fun, especially when Caerleon's man threw an axe at my head. It missed, if you were wondering." Arthur did not look amused despite his attempt at half-hearted levity.

"Your father had just died, and you were such a new king. You relied on your uncle's advice when we captured them. He told you to do what your father would have done, and make Caerleon sign an unfair treaty you knew he wouldn't accept. You wanted him to surrender Everwick."

Arthur startled at the name and looked thoughtful. Merlin was too lost in the memory to take notice of it. _How did Merlin know of Everwick?_ The ownership of that strategically important, but little known, port town had been in contention long before Merlin had even been born. Originally part of Camelot's province it had been taken under Caerleon's protection more than forty years ago. Long before either Uther or Caerleon had become kings.

"You executed him yourself, beheaded him. Sent the kingdom to war with his widow, Annis. Ten thousand soldiers she brought to bear."

His breath caught, his stomach knotting further to the point of nausea. Now Arthur was disgusted, _and_ horrified, that _he_ could commit regicide, and plunge two kingdoms into war! What kind of man was he in this other life of Merlin's? He fiercely sought solutions to end conflicts peaceably: talks and treaties, give and take. Even if both sides remained wounded and retreated to their own boundaries with their tails between their legs, war was costly, the last resort, and not wished for by any monarch. _This was not in his character._ So did Agravaine hold that much influence over him that he couldn't stand to his own convictions?

"You decided, in your great wisdom, to fight one-to-one with her champion Darian by invoking the right of combat. That really was a noble move, Arthur, to save hundreds of lives. Stupid, but definitely noble. Darian was a giant, brutish looking man. Don't know where Annis found him but he looked like he'd regressed back to being a Neanderthal.

Arthur looked blank again at the unfamiliar word. "Ah, right. Twenty-first century education not going to work here. Just forget the Neanderthal bit and go with big, ugly, muscles everywhere, and dumb as dirt."

Arthur rolled his eyes, and sighed with annoyance before Merlin continued. "You fought, you won by driving your sword into the earth near his head. But what you didn't know is that your sword was enchanted by Morgana so that you couldn't lift it after a time, and the only way that could have happened is if Agravaine had given it to her sometime before your combat."

Arthur worked his jaw, but Merlin didn't give him time to respond. "But what was just as important is what you told me later. You said that when Annis asked you why you didn't kill her champion, you told her, ' _It wasn't victory you sought. It was peace'_."

Arthur's eyes closed on that last sentiment. It was exactly what he would have done, and had thought on more than one occasion to resolve the so many conflicts that plagued Camelot. But that was just a sign that Merlin knew him and what he would do far too well. Not that he'd had an entire other life, despite the shockingly detailed accounts of it.

God, why did this have to be so complicated? With every tiny increment it gave, yet one more piece to the puzzle falling into place, the end picture becoming more than likely that of a very bleak future. One that it seemed Merlin had suffered through alone. How much torment could a man endure without changing? It looked very much like Merlin had passed his limit a very, very long time ago. If that were the case, he may have to consider that the friend he had known was gone and would never be coming back.

The flare of agony at the thought hit him with surprising force. "Enough, Merlin." He'd closed his eyes, and his mouth on the anguish bubbling inside.

"Enough?" Merlin scoffed almost insanely. "So you don't want to hear of Agravaine's attempted ambush in the Valley of the Fallen Kings? Or Gaius' kidnapping after you realised there was a traitor in the court and your uncle's implication of him? Or the Lamia in Longstead? How about Lancelot's soulless body being usurped by a vengeful witch in order to drive a wedge between you and an enchanted Gwen? Or what about Gwen's unjust banishment and your stupidly insane proposal of marriage to Mithian of Nemeth, even though you were still in love with Gwen? How about Agravaine and Morgana's bid to take over Camelot with the aid of Helios and his cutthroat band of Southrons?"

Merlin was out of breath, but he had so much more to say. "It was never enough for your uncle. We had eighteen months of torture, lies, and deceit from the man. Countless deaths could be laid at his feet and as soon as I pointed it out to you, thought I might finally have enough evidence to support my suspicions about him, he was still one step ahead. You even threatened me with exile if I spoke one more word against him."

Merlin softly laughed again. "You know, it's funny really. When I look back, how little trust you held for me—"

And Arthur could say the exact same thing. _Trust? What trust had Merlin ever shown him_?

"—For my judgement, no matter how many times I was proved right. Goes to show how much faith you hold for the intelligence of your subjects, Sire. I wonder how we could ever have counted ourselves as friends."

Arthur through it all had paled further, his blood slowing in his veins as if freezing at the very thought of all he said coming to pass, made worse somehow by Merlin's voice never raising past a normal conversational tenor. The final straw had been Merlin's musings of the dynamics of their relationship. He knew that wasn't true, that the insult was purely said out of hurt, to hurt. A spear of deep misery ran him through, unerringly aimed at his heart. There were no more words he **could** say.

…..

Arthur had left again after moving him to a cell with a modicum more comfort than the last. At least here there was an actual window, and a cot even if the straw stuffed mattress smelt of damp. He didn't know what that might mean. That the prince thought him no threat, or perhaps it was an act of pity or guilt. He had still left looking, if anything, even more broken and angry than in his chambers. But Arthur was a man of strong resolve, and Merlin had no doubts he would not only survive the defects in his perfect world, but he would endure. Guinevere would see to it no matter the outcome.

The cuffs made his hands ache as if he had been in the sun too long, a steady burning hum in the background of his conscience. But he was pleased with his progress. Half a day, perhaps a little less, if he could keep the magic dripping out constant and steady. He only needed to free up enough magic to flood the runes and then he would snap them. They were, after all, designed to keep a sorcerer from accessing the magic in the earth; they were never meant for one such as he, who held their magic within. Every tiny drip through just weakened them further.

Something whispered across his senses. No mere cuffs could stop his hyper awareness and this was magic he had not felt in so long. The beauty of it stung, the taint of the later years not having materialised fully yet.

Ah! Arthur's visit made a little more sense now. Agravaine had been telling tales, and so very soon it seemed. Morgana had come to call. And the only reason she would be here now was if she had come to see him. They were nothing if not predictable.

It also had the benefit of making him ever more certain of the goddess' involvement. There was far too much happening in too short a time for it to be mere coincidence. It made him smile, the kind of fierce grin he had not indulged in for too many years, one that laughed at danger and threw himself bodily into the fray.

Here was an opportunity.

"Good morning, Morgana." He hoped his overly cheerful greeting might serve to discompose her enough to not throw him against the wall as soon as she looked at him He could really do without a bad back at the moment. "I'm sorry I can't offer you a drink. They haven't seen fit to provide me with any."

"As if I would take anything from your hand ever again, you lying snake!"

And there she was. Heartbreakingly lovely still, poised on the other side of the bars, the pain-ravaged mad creature she would become just a distant memory. He hoped she was not too far gone. That his theory was right, and the sundering of the veil and her incarceration by the Sarrum had started the whole downward slide to the insanity she had displayed at the end, and not another factor. Not that he believed it absolved him of any guilt. But he hoped he could reach her. The real her, not some simulacrum pretending to be her under a veil of darkness.

"The last time I accepted something from you, I had to be rescued from the poison of a supposed friend. Though I must thank you, Merlin. If not for your actions, I would never have seen where my loyalties truly lay. Thank the goddess for Morgause."

Merlin looked at her with something akin to sadness, an apology floating within the blue. "For all that Morgause loved you, Morgana, she was a manipulative and vindictive woman, and was not above using you to get what she wanted. You were putty in her hands." Morgana's eyes became daggers then, her chest rising with breaths of defence.

"All she needed was your agreement; you didn't even need to know _what_ you were agreeing to. I could see you that day. You didn't know what she had done, did you? I saw how scared you were of what was happening when everyone fell asleep."

It hit too close to home. She had tried to repress those memories. Tried to focus on the good Morgause had done in saving her, of how much she owed the older woman for opening her eyes to the hate that flowed through Camelot as a swollen river carrying all in its path.

She would allow no man to question her motives or her reasoning. Her fury lashed out hitting him in the stomach.

It hurt, as if he had been punched by Percival with his full weight behind it. Dropping to his knees by the bars he refused to cry out. He'd had worse. Morgana had always been quick to anger. Merlin should have restrained himself since he knew her far too well. Better perhaps, than she knew herself. It was his own fault.

"My sister was everything, and you are nothing. Do not speak of her again!"

"So you can forgive your sister for using you in the spell, one that terrified you and forced you into a situation you had given no consent to. But can't forgive me for trying to end it? Morgana, I never wanted you dead. It had nothing to do with your magic either, and I think deep down you know that." He rose again from his knees, the pain dissipating slowly.

"I know no such thing. You poisoned me!" Those words were a hiss spoken with so much loathing.

"And Morgause was an experienced sorceress who I was positive would know the antidote. Why else do you think I picked Hemlock? It's the easiest to overcome with magic. Not like henbane." The last was said so softly, as if it were not really meant for her ears at all.

Morgana paused slightly. This spoke of a knowledge far superior to what he should have held. What did a serving boy know of such advanced magic? Even she had not known of it until Morgause had mentioned that it was lucky he had poisoned her with it rather than say, aconite, or as he had just stated, henbane.

"And just how would you know that?" The boy was younger than her and according to Morgause most people never knew they had magic until their late teens. As Morgana had found, it was a very rare phenomenon to find anyone younger with natural magic. Mordred was the only one she knew who had held such power as a child. Merlin could not have been practicing for much longer than her, it should have been impossible to have gained such wisdom.

"I was a coward, Morgana. Gullible and foolish. Reliant on the advice of those who I thought cared. I was wrong. So, so wrong. It has taken me too much time to see it. Too many years. Too many broken lives. I cannot erase what I did to you, I am so sorry, for not showing you that you were not alone. For pushing you into the claws of someone who would use your compassion against you, for not doing more to help."

"You think a simple apology will suffice? I think not! That would make you as gullible as you say. You still have not answered my question. How?"

"I'm Emrys, Morgana."

She frowned at him, a look of complete bafflement. And he realised she didn't know. Had not been told of her destiny and doom, or had not yet dreamed it. It had changed again. His identity still an unknown. He would have to tell her.

"I am Magic, Morgana. I don't just have it. You think I've only been practicing a few spells? Have held my secret for a couple of years? Learnt it to counteract yours? I was never against your magic because I was born with it. I never told you because I was warned of what you would become. I never realised that my one act would be what turned you from us completely."

Her eyes widened and she backed away, further betrayal showing clearly, and then the anger. It was as she had suspected then. "Traitor!" It was said in a hiss. Her hand shooting up, and plainly wanting immediate revenge, the bottle of justice forgotten in her belt pouch.

Merlin blocked her access to it, the pain from forcing too much magic around the block the cuffs instilled shooting up his arms, tightening his chest. He ignored it for the most part. He could handle it, but could not allow Morgana to try harming him with lethal magic. She could not kill him, but if she knocked him out or injured him, he would lose this one chance. He needed her to listen. His sanity depended on it, not just her own.

"I don't want to fight you. I'm trying to help."

" _You? Help?!_ Where was the help when I needed it?!" She sneered at him, hurt and shocked and feeling more betrayed than when she woke upon Morgause's bed after her rescue. She wanted to hurt him, destroy him, cause as much pain as he had. She reached deep within her core for the power to do it.

And gave a wordless cry as she couldn't.

Morgana had discovered the block and was frantically trying to reach through it. Becoming more panicked as each attempt just seemed to slide around it. How could he do this? The fear was starkly apparent as she looked up at him. At the pity in his eyes.

"It's temporary Morgana, so you don't do something rash. You'll get it back once I've said what I need to."

"How can you be so powerful? How can you do something like that around those cuffs? You never spoke."

Merlin ran a hand through his hair trying to ease the tension. "I'm Emrys. Ask the Druids what it means." It was said with a shrug, as if it was of no consequence. But it obviously held meaning if the Druids were involved.

"Know this, Morgana. This is a second chance. I don't intend to waste it, and I'm hoping I can persuade you to do the same."

 _Just what was that supposed to mean?_ she thought. _Second chance?_ They hadn't had a first chance.

Merlin closed the distance with one sure step. "Morgana, you're on a collision course. One that will cause countless deaths. Yours amongst them. Please stop."

"So I'm to give up?" She sneered at him, the revulsion for such a course of action making her lash out. "To stop the pursuit of justice and freedom for those with magic? You're right. You are a **coward**. I saw something in you when you first came here, thought you, out of everyone, actually cared. I realised I was wrong the moment you poisoned me. I just never knew how much."

"I have lived over a thousand years with the guilt of what I did that day."

He saw the same look of total confusion cross her face as it had Arthur's after that admission, but he had to press on.

"But you also had a choice, Morgana. Everyone does. You were gifted with a power that could have changed everyone around you for the better. And what did you do with it? Made people fear you, despise you for the magic you would turn on them." He held a placating hand out to her. "Is this really what you wanted, Morgana? There **is** another way. Aren't you tired of being reviled and hated?"

She looked from him to his outstretched hand, yet another sneer forming. "Arthur will never accept people like us. Look at where you are Merlin. Look at what he has done to you. And you're content to sit there and let him?"

His arms dropped. "So you think it's a matter of waving a hand, declaring yourself queen of a kingdom where magic will be free and twenty-five years of lies will suddenly disappear? People are sheep, Morgana. They will be hard pressed to disrupt the status quo, especially when fear for their families is at stake. Right now, they fear **your** retaliation more than Arthur's intolerance. Violence begets violence, Morgana. Every act of retaliation that results in the deaths of innocent people just perpetrates another round of madness-fuelled retribution. There will never be peace for magic users unless you stop the war!"

"And yet you are the one sat there in chains."

"You think I can't get out of this cell any time I want? That I'm sat here twiddling my thumbs because I have no choice? I chose to be here because right now Arthur is having a tumultuous internal debate with himself, trying to overturn that self-same twenty-five years of mental conditioning. I have absolutely no doubt it will happen."

He signed, and tilted his head, his eyes earnest. "But it takes time, Morgana, and you were always far too impatient. You want results now, but the world doesn't work that way. Until you realise that, then you are a danger to everyone around you."

He retreated to the cot, and sat with his knees up, arms resting on them. "I hope you wise up soon, Morgana. That you will realise you are harming the cause you profess to be fighting for with your wilful, stubborn pride. I can't lose you to the dark, Morgana. Not again." He lowered his head between his arms, hiding the piteous look on his face.

 _Again? Lose her to the dark_ _ **again**_ _?_ Morgana's mouth opened and closed. Not sure what exactly to say. The betrayal she felt was still there, still as harsh. But he had hit home with his gentle words. More than she cared to admit.

She was wavering, no longer looking so murderous, he could see it. If only he had known such words before, when he was young and hadn't feared the future. He wished he had been able to show her the consequences without having to live them.

God! He raised his head at the thought, his face hopeful. Why had he not thought of that before?

He rose with such speed that it caught her off guard, grabbed her wrist through the bars, and concentrated on the connection Druids held for mind-to-mind speaking, ignoring the sting from the cuffs as he searched for the same spark within her. He knew it was there somewhere. Mordred had communicated that way with her the first time he was here.

There, faint, untrained, untried, but there none the less. More magic trickled through leaving him slightly breathless and aching. He sent her just one word: _"Look!"_

She looked at him with shock as the thought reverberated round in her mind and her answering instinctive probe at his mental defences. He let her into his memories. Just those of Camelot. His first lifetime here and all it entailed. Everything he had seen in the crystals after Camlann trying to work out where he should have made better decisions. All the ways Morgana had been manipulated by those around her into becoming the perfect weapon, including himself. The pain of the cuffs was a constant background hum now, getting stronger the longer the connection held, and she felt it. As she experienced every emotion he had ever felt whilst living within these long gone walls.

She was gasping when he let her go. Stumbling back and back. Till the only thing holding her up was the opposite cell bars, clutching the hand he had gripped protectively to her chest. Staring at him with wide and fearful eyes.

She was in shock, he could tell. After all, it wasn't every day you relived your death, a death that hadn't happened yet, but very well could, nor to realise the futility of the struggle. That despite her fight, it was not her methods that brought the magic back, but the actions of a man who had hidden in plain sight for so long that his character could not be questioned.

Merlin's eyes were pleading again. "Show them who you are. That beautiful, compassionate, kind woman I know is still in there somewhere. Show them what Magic is. Do you really want the throne, Morgana? With all the responsibilities and loneliness that entails, just to gain revenge on a man who is not worth the trouble. Or do you just want to be you, free to practice the magic you were gifted with? I told you once before, in the other life, it didn't have to be this way. You didn't believe me then. But I hope you will now. Morgause may have shown you how to harness your power, but she never did teach you its true purpose, did she?"

He released the stranglehold he held on her magic. He had said what he could.

"How...you…I…I…" She turned and fled, the words of the transportation spell fading in the musty air. The very fact that she had run a testament to how disturbed she had been. Morgana never ran.

Merlin slowly sank down onto the filthy cobbled floor, the cot too far away, shivering in the aftermath of pulling so much magic past the deadening bands on his wrists. He felt like he was being turned inside out, the sweat now pouring from him, and his wrists were red, angry burns peeking out under the innocuous looking silver. It was too much too soon, but if it turned Morgana from the path destiny had demanded the first time, the agony was worth it. He would just rest a bit then resume the stream of magic needed to break them.

And the world blinked out of existence as it plunged into black.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N I need to reiterate the message I wrote for Screaming here, and apologise again for the rather unpredictable updates but with my work schedule it is becoming more difficult to find time to sit and write. Rest assured once my christmas stock and all the orders I keep recieving are done I will have more time to devote to it. In the mean time it may get worse before it gets better.**

 **Doberler my fab beta has once again pulled the rabbit out of the hat with this chapter and turned my brain inside out searching in every little crevice for those sparks of creativity. It must have worked though since this went from a barely 3000 word first draft to nearly 4500. She would have made an excellent torturer (a nice one!...I mean a nice one!).**

 **And I still have no legal rights to my favourite wizard or his pals, but then you know that by now.**

...

Keys to the Past.

Chapter 19.

Morgana re-materialised under the canopy of the trees outside her home, falling immediately to her knees, and retched into the red-gold carpet of leaves covering the floor.

She was shaking, and petrified. _How? Such a dark future. How did it all go so wrong?_

It felt as if she had lived those years in both bodies. She was Merlin and herself, and neither had known true peace. She could sense more memories, years' worth after Arthur's son became king and Merlin had retreated to his estate. But they had been shut away. She now wondered how much more there had been.

The gods had been laughing at her this whole time. She had thought she was forging her own path, that she would finally see justice for those like her. That she was removing the bigotry. But the destiny she had been cursed with was nothing but pain, humiliation, and an ignominious death celebrated by thousands, mourned by no one except Merlin, and to some extent, Gaius and Gwen.

She knew it was truth. Morgause had told her of the mental bond the Druids could communicate across. That Morgause herself did not have such a gift but Morgana might, and had been looking into finding a teacher for her. It had met with little success and she had remained untrained. But Morgause had been able to tell her about it. That no lies could be communicated across it, mind to mind, the intimacy of it meant it was impossible not to detect them.

Everything including her death, the years of struggle and heartbreak, leading to the prosperity and freedom for her kin afterward had poured into her conscience; and most importantly, Merlin's conflict about her magic and his sheer horror whilst he was told of the solution to the sleeping spell struck her to the core. Morgause had lied to her, to save herself from Morgana's wrath. She must have known she had miscalculated, had done wrong, else why lie, and try to pin the blame on the enemy? She had never felt more alone than now, when even the memories she had treasured of her sister began to tarnish this very moment until they were black.

She felt used, dirtied, as if the life she had been granted had been meaningless. No more. The dry heaving had stopped and a weighty fury ran through her as she raised her face to the sky.

" **No more! Do you hear me?!"** She screamed at the heavens, willing all of her disgust at the games the gods played out toward the stars. " **My life is my own. To hell with your destined purposes! I will forge my own road and walk it with pride! Stay out of my life!"** And then as if a puppeteer had cut her strings, she fell.

She curled on her side away from the noisome mess she had made in the leaf litter and cried out with broken sobs.

"No more!"

…..

Despite her convictions and high-sounding words to Arthur earlier, nothing could have prepared Gwen for what Merlin had told her. She had followed Arthur to the dungeons when he'd gone to see Merlin. Had hoped to provide moral support, and with her there, he was sure to behave himself around him. And once the urgency of Arthur's enquires had been satisfied, she had hoped to speak to Merlin herself.

It had not worked out that way.

From the first moment she had seen him sat upon that dim cell floor, she had known he was not the same. He held himself differently. The cheeky grin was gone, as if it had never been, replaced with an aura that was so very weary, and not the kind that was brought through lack of a few days sleep. It was the kind where fate had made him Tragedy's playground and he had seen far too much, an aura more likely seen by the survivors of terrible atrocities or the battle hardened soldiers ready to retire.

Then he opened his mouth and such wretchedness had rolled forth, causing her to flinch outwardly, and she was sure he'd seen her involuntary step backward. Gwaine had been wrong. This was no nightmare. And it was not the same as when Morgana had screamed herself awake after her visions. This went so much deeper, and it was frightening.

She suspected that Arthur knew her real reason for coming down, that Merlin needed her as much as Arthur, and there was nothing that would stop her seeing him. Now that she had, she was so very afraid.

He spoke with such conviction, but with such a lack of his usual cheer, his eternal optimism subsumed beneath whatever had caused this, whether that was seeing or living the trials he spoke of. She could not face him now, not when her own pain for him was interfering with his need for a strong friend. She would come back once she could face the man he was now without needing comforting of her own. Right now, she would be there for Arthur.

And his first question had surprised her. Agravaine? A traitor? _Oh, Arthur!_

It made sense to her, far more it seemed than it did to her prince. She was privy to more information than he would ever be, and knew the stance the staff held for Arthur's uncle. They called him Lord Aggravating below stairs, and the younger maids avoided him at all costs. Not that he'd ever actually done anything except the normal rudely overbearing manner of men born as the sons of nobility, but they told tales that he made them feel uncomfortable, as a wolf amongst sheep. That he stood too close, and took every opportunity to accidentally brush past them, and that his charm was anything but, whilst in the privacy of his chambers. The usual story of men who thought they were entitled.

It was another betrayal and her heart went out to him. She could see now why the revelation of Merlin's magic at this time might cause his behaviour to be less than sterling. It would be her job now to make sure he didn't do anything in the heat of the moment that he might regret later. She could be the voice of reason. If both of them were to come out of this, she would need to be.

…..

Arthur **had** assumed she needed to see that Merlin was well for herself, rather than taking his word for it. He could understand that stance, her lack of faith, much as he might loathe it. As she said, she had been in the same position on two separate occasions, and it was bound to leave a lasting impression.

But the rest of his tale, well, he was rather glad she had come with him as they had made their way back up, her silent support propping him up when he felt ready for collapse. He could only imagine what she must feel having heard such accounts, especially the ones concerning her. He risked a sideways glance, and winced at the tear tracks making runnels down her pale features. He took her hand without conscious thought, seeing as she needed her own prop. Even so, she managed to quell some of his turmoil just for being near, the scent of lavender rising from her warm flesh and curling round his nose, teasing him even in this dank hole.

There were no words as they made their way up to his chambers, sighing in relief as he shut the door on the world and took his future queen into his arms, letting her tears soak the front of his tunic, staining it a darker red as he rubbed her back in gentle circles. Perhaps, it had not been such a good idea to take her down there after all, but denying Guinevere anything was nigh on impossible.

"He's so different," she said, her voice nearly squeaking, her head now resting against Arthur's chest. "So much more miserable than he was before the feast. And if that's the future we have to look forward to, I'd rather not be a part of it. It was rather depressing, wasn't it? And Agravaine? Oh, Arthur. You never said he'd told you of Agravaine."

Arthur pulled back, but only far enough to look at her with troubled eyes, his lips in their natural pout. "Wait…you knew?"

Gwen stared at him for all of ten seconds, and then the coin dropped that Arthur was implying she'd known of his uncle's treachery.

"Oh. No, Arthur. We didn't know he was a traitor." Her hand cupped his face, her own distress all but forgotten. "Not at all, or I'd have come to you. Surely, you must know that. It was just that he was never popular amongst the staff." Appeased somewhat by Gwen's explanation, he took Gwen's hand in his, and kissed the inside of her wrist. He could get to the more pressing matters at hand.

"He had someone listening at the door to my chambers when Leon and I confronted Merlin." He leaned against the dark oak table, and crossed his arms. "There is no question he's up to no good, but the rest…?"

"There is too much detail, Arthur." Gwen was at his side, touching his arm before she'd even realized it. "Will you dismiss it so completely merely because it doesn't fit with your ideal?"

Arthur looked at this beautiful, compassionate, _wise_ woman before him. When had she gotten so confident? He remembered her slight stuttering nervousness when he had still been a green boy, and she a barely noticed maid. He missed that shy side of her. It had been rather adorable and he had enjoyed coming to her rescue. She didn't need such rescue now. She had grown so much; they all had.

"You're telling me to trust that he is as he says he is?" His voice remained level, calmer than he actually felt. "That he's been sent back from some bleak future we have yet to see?"

"I'm telling you to keep an open mind. This is Camelot, after all; where strange has become downright normal." The laugh was startled from him and the gentle smile gracing Guinevere's face told him without words that at least one of her goals had been achieved.

"So, what now?" His hand had covered hers, and he habitually, absently rubbed the back of it with his thumb. "Even if it's true, he still has magic and I cannot change the law. Even if I were king, not just the regent. Not for just one man, and certainly not whilst Morgana and her ilk are still out there."

"And who is to say that a change in the law wouldn't make Morgana rethink her life? Whilst I served as her handmaid in her brief reign as Queen, there were elements to her that were still the girl we knew." At Arthur's really rather incredulous look, she hurriedly explained herself. "Her methods were appalling, and I did not condone her actions in the least…but…"

"But?"

"I could understand at least some of her hate. It was the same emotion I had felt for just a short while when my father died. And when she was away from Morgause's influence, when it was just the two of us, there was still such a vulnerability to her. It was like seeing **our** Morgana again. Fear does very strange things to people."

Yes, he knew about fear and its debilitating effects. He knew that very well, having seen it every day in the actions of his knights, in his council chambers dealing with disputes, and every time a crisis erupted on their doorstep.

"Perhaps we should leave the matter of magic aside for now, Arthur. Those details he gave, they could be the proof you need. And don't tell me you haven't thought of it. I know you too well." She grinned deliberately. "And the strategist within you has already been thinking along those lines, I can tell."

Arthur pulled her into an embrace, and held on to the one thing that was sure in his life. As always, his chosen queen knew exactly what to say.

…..

The prince regent surveyed the group of men before him, hoping he was not mad for considering this, and making sure to keep eye contact with each and every one of them.

"I need you all to do something for me. Something that may seem random and pointless, but is in fact of the gravest concern." There were nods all round. These were **his** knights, not his father's. They would follow him because they trusted him, and because he needed them. His eyes rested on a knight a few years older than himself, dark haired, but fair skinned.

"Sir Dilwyn, I'm sending you to Howden, a village east of the White Mountains. I need to know of a girl there by the name of Drea. Find out all you can of the village and report back to me. Bring the girl with you if you find her, but treat her well. She is not a prisoner. If her family wishes to come, bring them." Sir Dilwyn frowned, but nodded anyway.

Arthur searched and found another knight, tall and thin, also dark haired. "Sir Iwan, you will accompany him. And take a little gold to buy the family provisions for the return journey to Camelot."

"Yes, my lord." He turned smartly on his heel and left the gathering, Sir Dilwyn following, and both men wondering exactly how a village girl could be so important.

"Sir Gwallter, Sir Robert, and Sir Marcus—" The three knights came forward, and nearly snapped to attention. "—you will be headed to the area in and around Wenham in Odin's kingdom. No colours or devices; you will be under cover. I need you to find out about a troupe of entertainers rumoured to be assassins for hire. You're looking for a knife thrower in particular. If you locate them, I need you to observe them, what they look like, names, and colour of their costumes. Any and all details no matter how mundane, all are vital. Write it down between you, hide it, and bring it to me."

King Odin despised Arthur, holding him responsible for the death of his son, however unjust since the dual had been an honourable affair; and if his knights were caught taking notes, spying on a group of assassins in Odin's kingdom, it would be construed as an act of war, especially if they were discovered to be citizens of Camelot. They would not get out of there alive, and Odin would surely cry foul!

The brows of the men who were left had pulled down further, and they couldn't help exchanging glances with each other. Assassins they could understand, but orders merely to observe them and write down what they were wearing? The prince had been right: these orders were peculiar. But the men trusted him, trusted his judgement, and if he said it was important then it was, and they would be fools to question it or him further. The three knights nodded to their regent, and departed the council chambers, ready to do their prince's bidding.

There were seven men left, and they all wondered what kind of odd assignment they might be given. Arthur took two paces to the left and came before one of his oldest knights, a rarity since most knights didn't live beyond the age of thirty. Sir Manon was nearly forty.

"Sir Manon, you will deliver this missive to Caerleon's monarch. I need to locate a man in their army by the name of Derian. Find out if there is such a person, and what he looks like. I have explained everything in the letter, but it is imperative we find him." Sir Manon took the parchment roll and secured it in his belt.

"It will be done, my lord," he said with a respectful bow. "Shall I wait for a response?"

Arthur nodded, pursing his lips. "Yes. Do whatever they request of you."

Manon bowed once more, and departed without so much as a glance in anyone's direction.

Arthur deliberately let the silence fill the room for a few seconds, pacing in front of the remaining six knights, as a commander would his troops before battle. When he finally spoke, it was with significant authority. "The rest of you, I need you to travel to Stonedown. Keep an eye on any unusual activity in the area, camp well away from the settlement and stay out of it as much as possible. Be discreet. We have reason to believe there have been raids in and around the area that may lead to the village being attacked by mercenaries or bandits. We need to catch them in the act. If you can capture any of them, bring them here. Take enough provisions for a few weeks. I'm relying on you to defend the village if such an attack occurs and report only to me or Sir Leon."

A chorus of "Yes, my lord" rang out before the last of them left, and once alone, self-doubt bit into Arthur's conscience, and he wondered if he had done the right thing. His heart raced as if he had been running laps around the training field in full armour. If Merlin was wrong, he could be sending them all on fool's errands, stripping the citadel of their defence for nothing more than a fantastical story.

But if he were right…Oh, God. If he were right…he would be opening a door on a very large problem.

He needed to deal with Agravaine, too, and for that he had asked for Elyan and Leon's help. He could not trust this with anyone else. They had effectively become his eyes and ears where his uncle was concerned.

And now…now he would deal with Gaius and Geoffrey and the details of the purge. What it would all mean in the end he had no clue, but to be able to make any kind of informed decision he first needed to be…well…informed.

…..

The smell of musty old books hit him as he opened the heavy wooden door to Geoffrey's domain. He hadn't visited the library in years, the last being when he was tutored in statecraft by the impatient librarian before his rise to commander of the knights, and when his practical lessons from his father took over. His learning had become more like the apprenticeships of an artisan, a merchant, and a squire, a practical education where Geoffrey then visited his chambers in order to oversee his academic lessons and reports. Sitting in on the council sessions and occasionally holding court with a bevy of advisors, his father had looked on until he was deemed sufficiently competent enough to do it on his own.

"Prince Arthur!" Geoffrey rose from behind his desk, eyebrows climbing in surprise. This was not a place that Arthur ever came willingly, the atmosphere too dry and confining for his taste as he'd once put it. To see him here meant something important.

"Sit, Geoffrey. Please." Arthur placed another chair at the other side of the desk and sat, weariness descending upon his shoulders.

"What can I do for you, Sire?"

"There are some questions I need answers to; things you may not like, but I have to know…Things relating to the purge." Arthur took note of the man's reaction: the widening eyes, the panic and the desperate hope quickly concealed behind yet another practiced mask. Honestly, how many old retainers would there be who held opinions not voiced for fearful reasons? Would he be looking for them round every corner now that he'd held a taste of the deceit that seemed to be running rampant throughout the kingdom?

"Your father has sealed all texts and records from that time, Your Highness. Whilst he is still king, I am bound by the promises I made."

No more. Arthur inhaled slowly, his jaw cinching as he exhaled just as slowly. He would not be lied to again.

"I will have the answers, Geoffrey. I am regent in my father's stead and I cannot run a kingdom with ignorance looming over me. You know as well as I there is little chance of my father regaining his wits." It had been forcefully brought home to him a little while earlier when he had left Gwen in a slightly better frame of mind, and gone as was routine to visit his parent, that here was a man whose guilt had finally found him.

Watching him sit and stare with an unfocused gaze past his shoulder, hand shaking mightily as he tried to drink, and meal untouched—not for the first time—as evidenced by the flesh wasting away before his very eyes. Arthur had previously blamed Morgana for his condition, had thought that magic had somehow been used to torture him to make him this way. But Merlin may have been right. What if this was merely the result of his own guilty conscience?

Arthur had seen Uther's frame had slumped whilst kneeling before Morgana, his illegitimate unacknowledged daughter. He could imagine the pain lurking in Morgana's eyes even as she smirked at bringing their father low. It was the same feeling he had felt. The betrayal not coming from what his father had done in the past, but the fact he'd tried to hide it. As if he had been ashamed to concede he was human enough to make a mistake.

Sitting with the man still slumped over a year later, it made him realise his father had never wanted to be seen as human, had counted it a weakness to be eradicated. Had thought erasing those traits that made him human would make him appear strong and in control, when all Arthur saw now was broken pride and a severe inability to take responsibility for his actions that was dangerous in a monarchy.

He had run through in is head all the times he had believed his father to be overly harsh, unfair, unjustified, and was rather staggered that he could recall so many. As he was also amazed and disgusted that Uther had brushed them away so lightly, thinking them merely a product of the harsh realities of being king and all the responsibilities it entailed. Too many times had he cringed and thought there could have been a better way, and yet he had never really fought hard enough for that better way or for his own beliefs. Morgana had always been the more passionate of the two in her convictions.

He had come to the inescapable conclusion his father was biased toward the upper echelons of society and most of the time ruled in their favour even if all the evidence supported the common man. There had been less and less calls for justice between commoners and nobles in recent years, and Arthur had been glad of it, thinking there was less abuse. It had, however, escaped his notice until now that all those cases brought up in the last few years had been made by nobles. He couldn't help but believe now that his commoner citizens had not experienced less maltreatment, merely that they had concluded they could not win anyway, and so had never bothered to bring it before the king. Either that, or they would be punished for telling the truth. Merlin, and the days after Bayard's disastrous visit, being a case in point.

He had never understood his father's reasoning behind that debacle. If a man tells you of a plot involving poison to try and save your life, you do not turn around and reward them with having to drink it themselves, and then deny any hope of healing merely because it was inconvenient, even if it turned out to have more than a little danger attached. A crown prince or even a king should hold no more worth than the men who held him in that lofty position.

If he was this prejudiced that ordinary citizens were experiencing such injustice, then could Merlin be correct about his father's tyranny? He didn't want to believe it. But to not investigate every allegation, even by those condemned, with equal weight would make him the dictator Merlin had accused his father of being. He would not let this kingdom fall into chaos merely because he could not listen, even if he hated and disagreed whole heartedly with what was being said.

Still, Geoffrey looked conflicted, his loyalty to Arthur vying with whatever promises he had alluded to regarding his silence. That alone had Arthur knowing he would not like what was in those records. His father had been keeping too many secrets. The revelation of Morgana's birth had been only the first. Now he needed to know about his own.

"Geoffrey, if Morgana had known of her heritage sooner, we may not have had so many dead on our hands now. I will not allow any more merely because I have never been trusted with the facts. It is my right to protect this kingdom, and I cannot do it without all the details. Help me find what I need, or I will find it myself."

He gentled his tone, knowing this was a lot to ask, but they should have known better than to keep information pertaining to the kingdom from him. "I will take full responsibility if my father ever does have occasion to find out. You will not be harmed for doing your duty. You have my word."

And that, it seemed, was all it took. Geoffrey nodded with something akin to relief, and with a proud glint showing through. "What do you need to know, my lord?"

Arthur huffed a sigh of triumph, unable to hide the grin on his lips. For the first time since this all began, he hadn't realized how much he needed this small victory, even if it did lead him toward a darkness his father had tried so hard to keep hidden from him.

Finally, here was a glimmer of hope that he would learn just what his existence meant to this kingdom.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N Well that was a bit of a flurry! I am so sorry for the really, really late update. I must say when I said that updates would be sporadic I did not mean for them to stop entirely for a month. Though to be fair I didn't reckon on getting as many orders as I received either! I was stitching, painting and generally crafting right up until my last order was collected at 7.00pm on christmas eve. That has never happened before. I hadn't written a word of this for that entire month and so I hope you will all forgive me for my tardiness. Happy new year by the way and I hope everyone had an amazing christmas regardless.**

 **Thank you, thank you, thank you Doberler for being my entirely amazing beta, and Moonfox for George's appearance, since I got a little stuck, had a massive and rather hilarious brainstorming session over on The Heart of Camelot, and this was the result. Thanks hon.**

 **Merlin should be mine, I'm sure I put him on my christmas list.**

 **...**

Keys to the Past.

Chapter 20.

Arthur felt physically ill. The sheer volume of material tucked away in those books and sealed scrolls by his father was unfathomable. And the details they contained, they had become painful to read after a very short span of time. All those lives, the broken homes, the panic, confusion, terror. It was too easy to read between the lines of neat labels and script, the crackling pages holding far more than the dry facts and figures holding the bones of this terrible beast together.

 _What the hell had his father been thinking?_ But wasn't that the entire point, a small voice kicked in? His father hadn't been thinking. Had been acting on instinct, out of fear and pain and guilt and any number of other negative emotions combining at the time into a lethal mélange. A goblet of poison which had spilled over and affected everything it touched.

And Merlin once again was proved right. Those children! Oh God, the children. One entire book dedicated to the systematic slaughter of nearly three hundred of their subjects under 15 years of age within the first year. Executions ranging from drowning to strangulation to…burning on his father's dreaded pyre with their parents. And their only crime usually had been a magical relative, not that they had ever displayed such a talent themselves. He'd had to leave for a while afterward or lose what little had remained in his stomach. Those facts and their subsequent imagery reminded him too much of Dinaden's Mount, the devastated Druid camp Merlin had shoved at him in his impassioned monologue. The faces of those youngsters haunting him as he sat and read the fates of their city-born kin.

But he hadn't been able to stay away either. He needed to know all. There had to be rational explanations for why the kingdom would have gone along with it and seemingly actively supported such a stance if they weren't innocent. He'd sat on the steps down the corridor from the library, knees bent, resting his head back against the rough-hewn stone, his fist repeatedly slamming down on the unforgiving floor at his side, trying futilely to reconcile this present reality to the one he had known before Samhain. He couldn't, and in the end it was only the tail end of his courage and the burning need to know _**why**_ which forced him back. He'd asked the same question of Geoffrey Merlin had asked of him: _How had no one noticed?_

Geoffrey's gaze bored into him and his bruised hand with a mix of pity and determination, his voice flat and uncompromising as he outlined the harsh realities of living through such dark times.

"There were many in those first years of your father's rule who used magic indiscriminately, Arthur; and though there were just as many who did not, Magic had been left unchecked so long people wouldn't trust those who held such power. Your mother's death became a catalyst for a change people thought would mean more stringent controls on those who used it for the wrong ends. Even those who had magic thought your father's regime a good thing at the time. They still remembered Baron Vortigern and his chaotic villainy before your father seized control. He had never taken any measure against those who used magic for their own gain so long as his rule was unquestioned. They believed with Uther's ruling that Magic could become a trusted ally of the crown once more when it could be seen the abuses of the practice would be punished both swiftly and harshly. They cheered when he told them he would be making drastic reforms to the use of magic."

Geoffrey leaned forward, threaded his fingers atop the desk, those unusually bushy eyebrows drawn in tightly. "It was only when **all** magic users became outlawed they realised the error they had made, and by that point they were a hunted people, and **anyone** caught aiding them were cut down. It created a fear within the common populace which turned them against their own friends, their own families.

"Soon enough, when even the healers and herbalists without magic, but who had always had strong ties with the Druid healers were seen atop the pyres, it became obvious we could no longer be perceived as sympathisers. It is a strong incentive, sire, to appease the crown when you know the danger not only to yourself but for your whole family to be placed in an unsafe position. One which could see them all killed by association." He seemed to realise just what he had said then, such words bordered on treason. But Arthur was glad of the honesty at least, and couldn't bring himself to really care about the political ramifications when it was painfully obvious the people had been betrayed first. Not only by magic users but by those who were supposed to protect their interests. A mistake on both sides indeed.

"After a while, it became the normal way of life. The generations born after the Purge know no differently. It was a harsh and brutal way of rectifying the problems plaguing the land, but it did bring peace."

"Did it? To my eyes, Geoffrey, I'm not entirely sure it did."

"You must understand, Arthur. Your father gave magic users a choice to stop practicing or remove themselves from the kingdom. They were given a grace period to adjust. The problem was more a case of people not realising how serious he was. There were many who didn't believe he would ever follow through with killing those who had done nothing more than casting a few spells. The healers especially were adamant he didn't mean their skills. And yet more who never heard the decree until far too late. Anyone caught after the time had expired was considered an enemy, a traitor, and no mercy was granted since they were then in deliberate disregard of the new law. Ignorance was no defence." He paused, meditative, almost mournful before he began again.

"I'm not sure the rest of Camelot knew the extremes that we trusted few were privy to. The outlying villages held very little communication with the citadel and vice versa, which was perhaps one of the major problems. There were only six of us who knew all, and of those, three are left. I do not think your father started out hating all magic."

"But it became so after my mother died? There is no excuse, Geoffrey. What of those who cannot help what they are?" Those like Merlin who apparently could not be anything other than a…creature of magic. And what of himself, someone supposedly born of magic? Did that make him magic? He could at this very moment be sitting here in blatant violation of his own father's laws. Had his father ever thought of that? Had he cared?

The irony of the situation was not lost on the regent. Both his father's heirs being either of or with magic. The very thing he had tried his best to wipe out of existence.

And if he were indeed an illegal product of magic, tolerated and even celebrated throughout the kingdom, how could he sit there and allow others to be killed simply for not enjoying his seeming immunity gained only because he was his father's son.

A sudden thought intruded, leaving him cold. Was that why so many had tried to not just kill his father over the years, but himself? Because his very existence was a symbol of Uther's cruel double standards? He could understand if not condone the stance if that were the case. All the anger and resentment held within the hearts of those attackers suddenly made perfect sense. Hell, **he'd** tried to take out his father when he'd first been told, only to be stopped in the nick of time by Merlin insisting that Morgause had only done it to manipulate him into that exact situation.

Forget dragons, undead armies, troll stepmothers trying to displace him as he watched helplessly, and conniving manservants possessed by vengeful souls of immortal sorcerers. **This** was the hardest thing he'd ever had to face.

"Will you tell me what happened at my birth? Why my mother became the catalyst?" Arthur had now been told the story of his mother's death by three very different people, and equally with three very different versions of events and reasons for doing so. One of which was now rather transparently false, the one from the source who should have been entirely honest—his father.

He wanted to know the archivist's version since he understood more facts than anyone else he knew, save Gaius; and though Arthur would ask the same question of the physician, his was a biased outlook considering he had been a sorcerer and Merlin was the man's ward. The council would never take Gaius' word, simply for his association to that dreaded practice. For all that Gaius held a valued position on his father's council, and had done so for nigh on twenty-five years now and enjoyed the implicit trust of his monarch, it would mean next to nothing if it became known he'd deliberately hidden a warlock under their very noses. It was too similar a situation as the Witchfinder.

That fact alone was an indication of the poison Merlin had talked of. A subtle, insidious poison that his people had welcomed with open arms, believing it to be a cure. A Trojan horse sitting in their midst and unleashing wave after wave of hate and distrust that had spread with oily fingers until they knew nothing else.

Geoffrey, on the other hand, had never had magic, had lived through such times, had been a staunch supporter of his father, even if he did seem to hide away as much as possible amongst his books and scrolls. He was also the only man of his acquaintance who seemed to be completely neutral. But Arthur could see the way he swayed toward tolerance, his belief nearly palpable for all the details of it had been left unsaid. He didn't think such a stance spoke of bias, however. Merely that he knew both halves, could identify that though magic had indeed become an unmanageable force controlled to a great degree by evil people. He could also see the injustice and manifest stupidity in outlawing those who could help in the fight. To lump them all within the same category and call it done, problem solved as if they were not playing with people's lives.

"How much do you know of your father's council before you were born?" Hesitant, unsure, wavering, he'd never associated those mannerisms with the archivist before. At his lessons, raps to the knuckle with a wooden rod had been frequently and swiftly distributed if his attention had wandered, strict and firm, the man had also been quick to praise if it was well deserved. It was a bad sign those negative traits had shown up now.

"Not enough, though I have recently been told of the court sorceress Nimueh." And that seemed to shock the archivist like nothing else he had ever seen. Arthur gave a weary sigh, another thing Merlin seemed to be spot on about. It didn't bode well for the rest of his research, not that anything he had seen thus far had been comforting or even mildly encouraging to be honest. It painted a bleak picture at best.

"What did you hear of Nimueh? And more to the point, who told you? Forgive me, sire, but there are not many who would know or speak of that witch, nor of her role within the court."

"Another vow, Geoffrey?" He said it with a slight exhalation, already knowing such an answer. "The source is not someone I wish to discuss at this moment in time, but the information they brought is what I need verifying. It is...one of the reasons I am here." He paused wondering if he should mention the part Nimueh supposedly played in his mother's death. "They told me of the deal my father struck to facilitate my birth." The gasp was everything Arthur had feared, confirmed it within himself, that here was yet another fact Merlin had told. "A life for a life."

"Perhaps you should be careful, sire. What if they are only here to cause trouble? Since I cannot see why they would tell you something this inflammatory unless they were trying to gain something from you."

"No. I really don't think they are." And it was true. He no longer could see Merlin as any sort of traitor. A betrayer of trust, yes; and perhaps with very good reason. Certainly better than the ones his father had given for his, but not a traitor. He'd never realised the subtleties within such a stance before now. Every bit of knowledge he gathered pointed unerringly to Merlin secretly trying to single-handedly sort out one hell of a mess, with no help whatsoever. Rather he'd had to do so with hindrances at every turn, Arthur's viewpoints included. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of that. Why he would take it upon himself to do so. Merlin's mentions of prophecy seemed too flimsy a reason to go through so much for a kingdom that essentially despised everything he was. Was their supposed friendship strong enough to make it worthwhile to be dragged through hell? Perhaps, Merlin had thought it was.

It didn't make anything easier to realise it, though. If anything, it made it ten times harder. He wasn't king. His father still held that position. And despite his having disappeared within his own mind for a year, he still held a lot of influence. His policies if not the man himself were thriving. To do anything to the law, especially to one held so close to his father's heart would be phenomenally difficult. Some might say impossible.

With just one revelation, Merlin had somehow handed his arse to him on a platter. Reveal it to the rest of the court and they would eat him for breakfast. Both of them, after Merlin had been condemned to burn that is, and he confined to his quarters whilst they tried to lift the enchantment they would be sure he was under. He felt like laughing hysterically, turning around and walking away right now. Let Morgana have the kingdom, warts and all. It might end up being a suitable punishment for her to sort out the massive headache he had somehow inherited.

"It's true, isn't it? I was born of magic, and my mother paid the price?" He paused for just a moment before quietly stating what he knew the archivist was probably thinking. "And then the rest of the kingdom."

"Sire, I'm not sure who gave you such information, but it worries me that they know so much. Are you sure it's not some ploy?"

"Oh, believe me. I've had the same story twice now from two different sources. The first was undoubtedly out to make trouble. I'm ashamed to admit I nearly did what they had set out to do. Something I would have regretted till the end of my life had a…a friend not stepped in and prevented me. **He** is the source of the second account. I know parts of what I've been told are true Geoffrey I just need confirmation of what those parts are." He'd named him friend again? Was he still? Had he ever been really?

Arthur had never actually called him friend to his face in all the years he'd known him and couldn't immediately think of a time he had done so in his own mind. And yet he knew the man would be there, tagging along, pushing him to be better, making him think on the difficult aspects of any given situation or problem, even when all he wanted was to bury them in the deepest pit he could find and forget about them. Standing there day after day, hearing his negativity and sometimes downright verbal abuse of his kin. Watching as they burned, knowing he could be next and yet still managing to lift Arthur's spirits and never asking anything in return except to cling to a vague promise of a better tomorrow. He wasn't entirely sure if that was extraordinary bravery or utter stupidity, either way, it was very, very humbling. Especially when he couldn't think of very many reasons Merlin might have to give him such loyalty. No, he hadn't been much of a friend over the years.

Geoffrey stared at the prince, at his sincerity and his disheartened depression. He had made a vow upon pain of death. Made a promise to a man he had admired, but now saw was as flawed as the rest of humanity. It would do more harm than good to keep this from him now when whoever had told of the account could have manipulated the facts to their own advantage. He had also said far more that could see him burned this night, but Arthur had not arrested him yet. If he truly was wise and courageous enough to seek out the truth in all its terrible glory, then he could not keep it from him.

Hope kindled despite his internal struggle to remain neutral, to avoid disappointment should Arthur not prove to be open to the facts. He felt in that moment eminently proud of the man Arthur had become.

"Yes, sire. It is true your birth was brought about by magic."

…..

"Arthur wants us to do _**what**_?" Leon looked at Elyan in exasperation. Surely it wasn't such a hard concept to grasp? Or perhaps it was just a rather shocking request so out of the blue as it was.

Elyan's hands had stilled in the act of sharpening his sword, a chore he always did himself no matter he now had a servant to do it for him. The blacksmith within, never fully dying out. Looking between Leon and the man at his back in confusion, he wasn't the only one to feel a little overwhelmed by this as evidenced by the guard shifting from foot to foot with nervous energy.

"He needs us to follow one of his chamber guardsmen and his uncle Agravaine. Report back to him with what they do and anyone they might meet. This is Arras." He brought the nervous guard forward, one arm snaked around his bicep. "His other guard. He'll be going with you."

Elyan still looked blankly back, still clearly bewildered.

Why would Arthur ask them to keep a look out for his uncle? Arthur doted on his relative and by all accounts, Agravaine did the same to his nephew. But there must be more to this than met the eye if Arthur had asked both himself and **Leon** to look at his activities with a critical eye. But were they supposed to be keeping Agravaine **away** from some unknown threat, or was the opposite true and Agravaine **was** the threat? And why were they taking yet another guard?

He didn't know what the hell was going on, but one look at Leon and he could tell he did. It had to be something very serious if Arthur had taken Leon into his confidence but was not extending the same courtesy to him. He wondered not for the first time over these last months, what exactly he had gotten himself into by donning the scarlet cloak of a Camelot knight. Arthur's knight specifically since he would never think of himself as Uther's. The king had killed his father and for nothing more than mistakenly trusting the wrong person.

He couldn't think why his sister had taken it upon herself to look after Uther when he was the cause of their family's grief even if she had felt at a loose end as a newly made lady of the court with his meteoric rise to knighthood. Although he would have to be blind or stupid not to notice that the man happened to be the father of Arthur Pendragon, a man she couldn't take her eyes off of whenever they happened to be in the same room. Prince or no, Gwen seemed besotted.

He pondered on the fact his promotion could be due not just to his fighting skills and the aid he had given last year, but also to the new status it would grant his sister. He couldn't deny that her rather startling rise in standing meant Arthur could pursue her more openly, gain his council's blessing more easily, and garner less resistance from the nobles.

Either way, he owed much to the prince regent and he would do his utmost to satisfy the commission he'd been given though he could see one major flaw. "I take it we're not to be noticed on this foray?"

"Clearly not."

"Then why did Arthur pick us? Agravaine and all but the newest guards know us on sight. And Arras, this other guard? He knows you?" A nod, clearly not a very talkative fellow, or he was merely overawed, it didn't matter.

"It's a matter of some delicacy and Arthur needed those most loyal to himself to take this task on. I needn't tell you that this must stay strictly between us." Elyan eyed Leon and Arras up yet again. "Arthur trusts him. He knows why we're here."

Right. Fine. Arthur trusted both Leon and some random guard with what they were doing and why, but he was left in the dark? He would never understand the thought processes of nobles.

"There's still the problem of us being far too recognisable. What if they go somewhere we wouldn't normally be? We'd stick out like a sore thumb and give the game away as soon as they spotted us."

"We'll just have to hope they don't then." Elyan just groaned. It was almost guaranteed with their brand of luck. Oh, hell. They'd just have to cross that bridge when they came to it.

…..

The shivering brought Merlin around this time. The damp and cold of the stone floor leeching what little heat his body could produce when incarcerated well underground and in only a thin linen shirt. The ache had crept up his arms too, his wrists not the only witness to the cuffs stranglehold.

He couldn't stay on the floor. It would do him little good in the long run. With a grunt, he managed to haul himself to his knees. Getting to his feet at this point might be beyond him but the cell was small, he could manage to crawl the short distance to the pallet and the thin blanket folded at its end. An inadequate protection perhaps but better than nothing, and, at least, the bed was raised above the floor. It had to be warmer and softer than solid stone.

Shifting his weight onto his hands proved a mistake. They wouldn't take the added pressure and they collapsed under him. His hands tingled but the ends of his fingers were numb, not a good sign. It was as if they were suffering from the early stages of frostbite. He'd tried to do too much in too short a time and now he would have to be even more cautious.

An awkward shuffle on just his knees, arms held protectively against his chest, finally brought him within reach of the wooden frame and straw stuffed cloth. It took three tries to haul his skinny body over the side and a couple more for his uncooperative fingers to grasp the blanket firmly enough to pull it over himself.

Even that small amount of exercise had exhausted him. He had just enough presence of mind to set his bruised magic working on the cuffs once more before he fell asleep yet again.

…..

They'd split up.

Whilst Elyan made himself as comfortable as possible in a little-used cleaning store hidden behind a tapestry in the royal wing with Arras to await Arthur's uncle, Leon went down to the guard barracks to keep an eye on Drin, using the act of going through the shift rosters and minutiae of being the guard commander's superior as a legitimate excuse. If it came to it he'd do a surprise inspection to stay longer. It wasn't an unprecedented occurrence after all.

In the end, Agravaine had shown up rather quickly, going into his rooms followed a short time later by George, the infill servant, with a tray of food. It took a while for Elyan to remember Agravaine's normal manservant had slipped on the wet cobbles a week ago and had managed to snap his ankle. Elyan's lip curled in distaste at the remembrance, Agravaine had fired the man when he couldn't perform his usual duties, an overly harsh but not unexpected stance from a nobleman. Some time later, George emerged yet again with not only the tray with the empty dishes but a pair of boots and a black leather pouch. Nothing else happened for a long time, and after a while, the only thing emerging from the room were deep snores.

Elyan left him to it, and Arras on watch in case he should emerge again, and went in search of Leon, knowing there was nothing further he could do.

Drin was still out there somewhere.

…..

If the commander thought it strange Leon had cut off their session early he never mentioned it. Such was the respect Sir Leon garnered as an experienced and well-liked knight. Leon could only be grateful he didn't need to explain. Drin was moving, and swiftly. Elyan caught up at the gate to the lower town, joining him silently, and his eyes promising explanations once they had the leisure to talk.

The lower town bustled and it was easy to get lost in the crowd. They could stroll casually here, pretending to be deep in the discussion yet keep a watch from the corners of their eyes for the hurrying guard. He wove through the masses with ease toward a very familiar sight and Elyan nearly groaned with frustration, giving Leon a look to say "I told you so."

He was heading to the tavern, in broad daylight, the full looking and familiar looking black pouch at his belt making it obvious where he wanted to spend the rest of the day.

 _ **Why**_ did everything seem to revolve around the Rising Sun? And where exactly was Gwaine when they needed him? He frequented this particular establishment very regularly, even during daylight hours when the knights were supposed to avoid hard drinking, said he felt right at home in its murky confines. Elyan and Leon however, had never set foot in it except to settle the bills for their drunken friend's forays, or extricate him from the barmaids' clutches just long enough to sober him up somewhat for their new prince's gruelling training regimes. And everyone knew that fact.

If they went in now after the guard they'd been following, he'd know something was amiss. Elyan rolled his eyes at Leon's crestfallen expression and gestured at the window.

The view through it was not the best. Smoke wafted in the sultry atmosphere and there was hardly any light from the tiny windows even this early in the day. It made the interior gloomy when viewed from outside in the bright sunlight.

"Why couldn't I have thought to bring Arras out here, or Merlin? He could do this. He's good at sneaky, better than most give him credit for

at any rate, and people talk to him. He seems to have one of those faces you instantly trust. Plus according to Arthur, he's always here anyway." Elyan felt Leon stiffen at the side of him with his whispered words and wondered what exactly he'd said.

"Merlin is…otherwise occupied at the moment."

"And Arras is keeping an eye on Agravaine's door. Care to explain again why we are doing this?" Perhaps it was Elyan's imagination but there was something very peculiar going on and he wasn't entirely sure he liked that he was being kept so much in the dark. Leon had never spoken Merlin's name with so little inflection before. It was almost as if he were trying to conceal what he was feeling in regards to the lanky man. And wasn't that a strange thing?

He wisely let it go for now. There was nothing that would ever make Leon talk about something if he didn't want to. He laughed a little to himself. He was very much like everyone else in Arthur's inner circle with regards to that particular mannerism, stubborn to a fault the lot of them including Merlin, and his very own sister.

Nevertheless, this plan would fail if they couldn't get a man inside that tavern.

Perhaps Providence heard his silent prayer or fickle luck favoured them for once but just as Elyan was going to suggest one of them go back for Arras, George once again made an appearance.

They both exchanged a speaking glance and their thoughts and actions moving as one, they pounced.

.….

George was well acquainted with both Leon and Elyan. His family had served those of Leon's uncle for years. He had been brought along on the trips his father's master had made to the family gatherings as soon as his own father had deemed him big enough to fetch and carry. Using him to lighten the load of the upper servants and to learn the art of being a perfect servant himself.

He'd always looked forward to the holidays and those trips, for as soon as his duties had been done he'd been allowed to play with the children of the household. Gwen, Elyan and sometimes Leon, when he managed to hide from his tutors, had been frequent companions.

His love of metals had been borne of those times Elyan had snuck him into his father's blacksmith shop, wishing he could be a smith himself, imagining himself making things, useful things people would come and buy.

It was one of those times when George had become so caught up in his fantasy of people praising his smithing skills, he'd not looked where he was going and ended slipping on the metal discards around the anvil, bashing his head on the same and falling into the barrel of water kept for plunging the hot worked metal just as Elyan's father had come through the door.

He'd never been so humiliated or felt so guilty. Elyan had laughed even as he'd helped him out of the barrel and told his father it was his fault, taken all the blame. He hadn't stayed to find out what Tom had said to his son in response, and he'd avoided them all since. When his father had passed away from a winter fever, they'd been brought to the city permanently to live with his aunt and uncle and any dream of being a blacksmith's apprentice had died with the need to provide for his mother. Still his love of metal remained and he took any opportunity to work with it.

Seeing the both of them stood there peering resolutely through the window of the tavern and then whipping round and looking at him with such a predatory gleam made his footsteps falter in alarm. It didn't stop them from grabbing him as soon as they spotted him trying and failing to make a run for it, not liking the way they eyed him up like fresh meat.

Leon slung an arm around his shoulders in a companionable manner that didn't fool the servant for a second, smiling at him in an ingratiating way that he knew from experience in childhood spelled trouble. "Here, let me get those for you."

George made to grab the newly repaired boots back, but Leon was too quick and held them out of reach. When Elyan then came up on his other side and clapped him on the back with an insane grin, he knew this would not end well. "You remember that little incident in my father's forge, don't you, Georgie-boy?" He returned their regard with undisguised panic, saying nothing. "We need you to do something for us….."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N Ok so this chapter was supposed to be the last one of this section, but things didn't quite work the way they were supposed to and it got bigger and bigger as I realised more needed to be added than I was prepared for, and so there will be one more. Just so you know there will be a lot more of this story it's just going to be posted in three sections because just like the episodes it will have a certain amount of time in between. The second section will be set a few weeks after this. I hope that makes sense to all of you and hope you enjoy.**

 **Biggest ever thanks to Doberler for her ever wonderful beta-ing skills and friendship.**

 **I still have no claim on Merlin or his friends, in fact I'm beginning to believe they know nothing about me, which is quite sad since they'd like me I'm sure, except Agravaine and Morgause but then you can't have everything can you.**

 **...**

Chapter 21.

So there it was. Another truth confirmed.

He was born of magic.

Geoffrey sat still after that one affirmation, gazing off into the distance of a long forgotten past, pensive, obviously gathering his thoughts and his memories. Arthur gave him time. This was just as difficult for him as it was for Geoffrey. He believed, but before he could wrap his mind around what those words truly meant, Geoffrey's voice flowed out, swift and decisive as he calmed him with stories of his parents.

"Your mother, God rest her soul, was never supposed to marry your father. She had been promised to Vortigern from the cradle since they were cousins. A betrothal for an arranged marriage the baron ignored no matter how hard his parents threw her at him and Ygraine actively fought against. She was a very strong-willed young woman, had a stubborn streak as wide as the kingdom."

Geoffrey spoke with such fondness for the girl his mother had been. It was ambrosia to the prince since no-one ever spoke of his mother except in brief snippets before they remembered themselves and apparently their promise to Uther. Arthur had been left wondering throughout his entire life as to what she had really been like, building fleeting images in his mind from all the morsels let fallen from slack lips, but knowing there were too many gaping holes to paint a true portrait. With great anticipation, like a child waiting for the fairy tale longed to hear, her picture was now about to be fully drawn. At least in his mind anyway.

"Your father met the Lady Ygraine when he took the kingdom from the baron. The story goes she met him at the main gate with her entire wardrobe, jewel collection, and half the treasury packed into the saddle bags of the baron's extensive stable, and leading most of the castle staff whilst wearing her brother's second set of chainmail. She looked Uther up and down, declared he was rather late since she had just decided upon rescuing herself and her household, but since he was now here she would need escorting back to her chambers. I believe Uther fell head over heels in that exact moment though I'm not entirely surprised. I think most of his inner circle fell for her wit, charm, beauty and fierce protectiveness. The staff, of course, adored her."

Arthur sat rapt. Geoffrey had always had a way with words. He could remember many days when he had done well enough at his studies for the man to reward him with tales of long gone heroes and epic battles. He hadn't realised just how much he missed them. The glint of wistful pride in Arthur's eyes mirrored that of Geoffrey. It almost made the archivist smile warmly, realizing how the greatness of the mother was reflected in her son. He kept his own pride unvoiced and continued.

"The feeling between Uther and Ygraine was obviously mutual, however, as they were married almost as soon as the ink dried upon the decree naming Uther the new lord of not only his own dukedom, but the barony as well, bringing Camelot back to being a true kingdom into the bargain." Arthur almost sighed at the tale but he manfully kept such girlish sentimentality under wraps. He had never heard such an account of how his parents met. His mother sounded quite fierce, very much like the Morgana of old.

He did sigh then. If his mother had lived, Morgana might have been his true sister and her magic celebrated. Would it have made a difference? Would his father have been different? Of course, there was always the thought that Morgana should never have existed at all since she was born of his father's affair with a married woman, his best friend's wife, only a year before marrying his mother.

Morgana had never had it easy for all that she was the pampered ward of Uther. She was too feisty a character to take kindly to Uther's stringent control. The magic just made it harder for her. Possibly even harder than Merlin had found it seeing as she was almost constantly in Uther's sights and Merlin had merely been a servant, overlooked and disregarded.

"There was never any doubt of the love they felt for one another. Ygraine bloomed. But there was unrest not only on the borders of the restored kingdom but from within. The old council, those not killed in the initial confrontation had fled and were trying to gain support for the baron's younger brother to take the crown back. It would never have worked. He was an upstart puppet dangling on the council's strings. He died before the rebellion could take a hold properly, poisoned by one of his own supposed supporters. Mad, the lot of them!" The politics of kings and kingdoms! He understood intrigue, the plots the ploys for power. He was a noble and had played these games at his nurse's knee. He'd found an aptitude for it, revelled in it when he was a young, arrogant braggart. Now it was a mere tool. So many underestimating the depths of knowledge afforded him. Of when to speak up, and when to keep one's mouth firmly shut. It had saved his life on more than one occasion knowing when to pick his battles and when to concede the fight.

"Nevertheless, it brought it home to both Uther and Ygraine how precarious their rule was. They were both young, still finding their way and with no heir in sight, the council and nobles were putting pressure on them from all sides."

Geoffrey looked beaten, tired and defeated, and Arthur realised Geoffrey had been in Camelot even under the baron, that he had been a staunch presence from the beginning. He spoke as if his mother had been his friend. Perhaps he had been, for knowing his mother had loved to read was one bit of information he'd pieced together for himself, and there was every chance she and Geoffrey had spent some time in conversation, though some may have called them lively debates.

"Ygraine came under the most scrutiny. All those noble ladies can be harpies at the best of times. She could give as good as she got most of the time, but…" He sighed with nostalgia, remembering with painful clarity all of their words and all of their deeds. The undeniable cruelty. "The first duty of a queen was always to produce an heir. She came to me, to Gaius, more than once. Distraught at what she termed her failure. She was so strong in everything but this and we were powerless to do anything." He paused and took a deep breath, preparing for what was to come. "Ygraine asked us to look into magic as a means to speed the process. She so badly wanted to please Uther. She hadn't told him what she'd asked of us until Nimueh was introduced as the court sorcerer's replacement." A smile came to his lips and happy memories flickering briefly across his face, smoothing the lines of age and guilt and duty that had deepened so these last few years.

"They were as thick as thieves. The first friend Ygraine ever made outside the confining circle of nobles her father had deemed worthy. They were so excited when they thought they had come up with a solution. Uther had been ecstatic, as had his wife." And just like that, the dark lines came back to his face, darkening his eyes with a foreboding countenance that even shocked Arthur for a moment. He wasn't sure he was ready for whatever came next. The slight glaze that came to the librarian's eyes made him sure he wasn't, and he consciously braced himself to hear it again.

"When Nimueh realised there would be a price, she came to us. We all tried to talk him out of it. But Uther was adamant. One life he said, for the safety of a kingdom. It didn't help that Nimueh couldn't tell him who would pay. She had the gift for mirroring life and death but she had never wielded it. It was a very rare gift apparently, one she had received only the barest minimum training for." Did he—just defend the sorceress? Well, why not? They had all been friends at one time. And Arthur had already realised well before this that what he knew of magic was a very small drop in a very big pond.

"We should have gone straight to Ygraine. Instead, we allowed Uther to explain it to her, the one man amongst us who had never been given any instruction in magic. But we were all younger then. We should have realised Ygraine would never have gone along with it if she had been told the whole from someone who knew what they were saying. We should have seen the warning signs and stopped it. But solutions always crop up in hindsight."

Arthur bit into his lip, his brows creased, the words of that future poet Merlin had used only a few hours ago coming to mind, and how true they rang to what he knew as his life today. ' _Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive._ ' What was the name of that poet again?

"After it was done, and you were there, and Ygraine gone, Uther brought Nimueh in, charged her with treason. She pleaded with him. We all did. She truly didn't know it would be your mother. None of us had, though we should have suspected. He believed her, pardoned her, and brought in the laws to stop it from happening again. It could have ended there." He shook his head.

"But Uther asked for something she couldn't give. She wouldn't renounce magic. Told him it was his own ignorance that had caused Ygraine's death and not the magic itself. It was then, I think, that he snapped, her defiance pushed him over the edge. And I'm not entirely sure he ever saw how deeply we were all grieving. He saw Nimueh's unrepentant attitude and it twisted within his mind. She was sentenced to burn. Hers would have been the first pyre. She escaped and fled to the Isle of the Blessed. The rest, you know." It seemed as if the archivist almost rushed through that last part, pained from reliving the tale, but Arthur understood. What more could be said, after all?

No matter how he looked at it, his birth was the cause of the tragic loss of his mother, and so many other lives. All he could do right now was to try to control the slight quivering attempting to overwhelm him. Was he worth it? Would his father think it all worth it now? A moment passed before Arthur focused on what Geoffrey had said. "Yes, the rest I know."

Scott. That was his name. There were so many more webs he had left to unravel.

…..

It had been surprisingly easy to get the guard separated from the rest of the patrons in the Rising Sun and lead him out to the questions Leon and Elyan were waiting to ambush him with.

All it had taken was a quiet, respectful request for the guardsman to follow him outside for a nobleman to have a word. It was a simple misunderstanding on the guard's part that he automatically assumed George had come from Agravaine. He had, after all, been the one to deliver his payment from the man. No more surreptitious spying had been needed once George had identified that black pouch on the guardsman's waist. Especially when George had been the one under instruction from Agravaine himself to deliver it for services rendered.

Leon and Elyan both had gaped at the sheer arrogance of the man conducting illicit transactions in full view without even a hint of subtlety. George, however, hadn't been surprised.

"I've met few noblemen who would think twice about it, my lords. The word of a servant is never enough. Most of our class cannot read nor write and verbal instructions can be dismissed all too easily."

George's tone of voice on the matter was accepting, resigned, not at all accusatory. This was the way of life for most of the commoners and Elyan winced visibly remembering that yes, his lot in life had now changed, but until a year ago he was treated the same. He, of all people, had not forgotten that commoners as a whole were classed as entirely untruthful. A lot of things could be done or said in the presence of someone with no status and with no fear of reprisal. Who, in the entire hierarchy of the kingdom, would believe the word of a servant or peasant over that of a nobleman?

George shrugged, his face becoming more impassive. "We aren't people to the nobility."

For that matter even if a noble did believe a commoner, oddly the commoner would more likely face punishment than any form of praise. And so would those who took their side in the matter.

All three now, in their own capacities, knew that servants were dogs on leashes subject to their master's whim. Leon looked on embarrassed and ashamed even as Elyan reluctantly nodded.

"He's right, Leon. The only reason they'll take George's word for all **this** is because we were already investigating on Arthur's orders and I saw that pouch come out of Agravaine's room in George's hands. If George had gone to anyone of his own accord he would have been the one arrested. It happened too often to friends of mine whilst I was making my own way. Commoners have to learn to keep their heads down."

"Well, not to worry, George," Leon said, a newfound respect for the boldness the docile servant braved tonight. "We've got your back now." George looked first surprised and then relieved. Perhaps knowing these two men so well was not such a hardship after all. He resolved to bring anything he found unusual to their attention in the future. Servants were, after all, privy to so much more information than nobility.

After that, getting the guardsman's confession had been all too easy. Elyan showed a ruthless streak, hitherto unknown, when pumping the man for information at the end of the alley. It did, of course, help that the man was a snivelling coward at heart and all too willing to offer up the information in the vain hope it might spare him. It was the matter of minutes to haul him back to the Citadel and secure him in a cell far away from the manservant who had started the whole mess.

"Now what?" Elyan was still not entirely sure of the whole story surrounding the guard, the noble, and the selling of important information to one former ward of the incapacitated king. His eyes had widened considerably at that last little tidbit, but he supposed it made a sort of tragic sense. Leon, however, seemed to grasp more of the conversation's meaning than either of the other men had.

And so, hoisting the black leather in one gloved hand, the coins gently clinking within their confines and with a bleak look upon his face Elyan had never seen before, Leon stated in one of the weariest voices he had yet heard, "Now we find Arthur. I think we have everything we need. Don't you?"

…..

Leon, Elyan, Arras, and surprisingly enough George, had come to him in the library, explaining their morning, their spying, and the reasons for including the mousy little man that had replaced Merlin as his servant for the time being.

Arthur had been glad at that point to get away. There was only so much emotional turmoil he could handle in a day and these last few had seemed to have not let up, one body blow after another landing with unerring precision. He'd felt himself near tears on several occasions, an almost unheard of occurrence. It wasn't done for a prince of the realm to cry after all, at least not in public. And so, he tramped down the sorrow and the pain as he had been trained since childhood until it formed a hard ball within his chest and promised his subconscious a hard training session later to work off the excess slowly building within. First, he would need to deal with his uncle and for that, he required a cool head.

They were now all waiting in the guest room across the corridor from his uncle's chambers. All except George, who had gone back to his duties in the prince's room after promising he wouldn't breathe a word, and looking affronted that they would even consider him capable of it. Arthur had to admit the man seemed incapable of disloyalty no matter how dry his personality. He shuddered inwardly at the witticisms he'd already been subjected to and stepped over to his uncle's door.

His men would come out of their concealment once he knocked and had been admitted. He couldn't help but think this was going to be one of the hardest encounters he had ever experienced, not least of which because he still couldn't work out why Agravaine, of all people, would turn on him. Morgana, yes. She had a clearly defined reason why attached to her betrayal though it still left him with a bitter taste in his mouth and a feeling of guilt that so much could have been prevented if only he had known from the start. Agravaine's reasons were too ambiguous and tenuous to make much sense at all. Arthur was his family, whereas she was not. What had the man hoped to achieve allying with the enemy?

He rapped his knuckles reluctantly and when the acknowledgement came, steeled his nerve and stepped into the room. For his kingdom, if not for himself, this was a necessity.

"Arthur! What a pleasant surprise! Will you join me? I was just about to dine." He turned to the serving boy just placing the last of the dishes on his uncle's table. "Another plate for the prince."

"No, Uncle." Arthur waved the boy away and at a gesture, he bowed and left them to it. "I'm not here for a social call."

One look at the regent's face and Agravaine could tell it was something serious. He could only imagine it was to do with that boy Merlin!

Well, he had hoped to remove his nephew from his influence and this was the perfect opportunity. A confession of sorcery, no matter his nephew's fondness, automatically translated to a death sentence. He was only surprised the farce of a trial hadn't been held yet. A Pendragon, after all, was predictable with regards to acts of magic. All he had to do was give him a very slight nudge and at least one problem would then be taken care of. By all accounts, Arthur was halfway there already despite his close ties to the boy.

"You know you can come to me with anything, Arthur. What can I do for you?" How had Arthur never noticed such an ingratiating personality? The bootlicking that was somehow worse than most of the servants had ever shown him?

"It appears we have a traitor in our midst." Arthur kept his face carefully neutral and studied his uncle's in turn. If he hadn't been looking for it, he may have missed the flash of smug satisfaction that appeared only briefly. He would see how satisfied Agravaine would be when his intentions became clearer.

"Do we know who the traitor is? Or what his aims are?" Arthur had to admire his acting skills. He gave not a flicker of recognition that he knew anything of the events played out yesterday. Of course, Agravaine knew exactly who, but there had been no mention at all of Merlin's arrest and so he would have to play this carefully.

"He is someone who is very close to me; has gained my trust and given false counsel," Arthur continued, studying his uncle's face intently as he did. "I believe his aims are to undermine my rule and ultimately cause me harm. What would you say, Uncle? What punishment should I give in such circumstances?"

"Why, what other punishment should there be but execution, Arthur?" No hesitation at all, Agravaine having thought he meant Merlin, of course, and it sickened him to note the glee held within his gaze as he advised his death. "There can be no other outcome, especially if, as you say, he has grown close to you. Your father would never have hesitated. A leader needs to be able to show a strong front, be swift and decisive with his justice no matter who the person is." Agravaine's smile was even more self-satisfied, akin to the look of a cat that had made off with the freshly prepared joint, and it brought Arthur's hackles to rising ominously. His uncle was far too sure of himself. It was time to deliver the piece de resistance.

"I'm glad our policies match so well, Uncle." Agravaine fairly beamed at his nephew until Arthur's arms crossed, and his stance became tense, and his shout. "Guards!"

The smile then fell into a confused and wary look toward the man he had thought to outwit. Three other men filed into the room: Sir Leon, Sir Elyan, and a guardsman he had last seen standing outside Arthur's chamber door.

"What is this, Arthur?"

"I'm arresting a traitor in my court."

"Arthur—" His indignation was appalling to Arthur and the prince regent held up a finger that stopped his uncle from speaking.

"Choose your words carefully, Uncle." Arthur's face was uncompromising, the edge in his voice dangerous. "What happened? Did you have so little feeling for my mother you would plot against her only child, your nephew?" His hand came down to rest on the hilt of his sword. "Since I'm having a hard time understanding just what it is I've done to you, I'd like an explanation, at least."

The sweat that formed on his upper lip betrayed his trepidation, the seriousness in Arthur's face causing him to lick his lips. But they were the only outward signs, and they were slight besides, his confidence assured. He actively calmed his voice, breathing deep, radiating smooth affability with practiced ease. "I've no idea where you're getting this ridiculous notion I would betray you, Arthur. I'm no traitor. You must believe that. You are my sister's child. I made a promise to your mother, Arthur I would never betray her or you."

"And yet, I have witnesses to say you have. That you have been all along."

"Your information is wrong. Who accused me?" Agravaine didn't really have to ask, and when the coin dropped, he shook with barely suppressed rage. "It's that boy! A **servant** , Arthur? You would take his word over mine? I am your uncle!"

Arthur's mask of indifference had cracked with his uncle's derogatory tone toward Merlin and his lowly status, and some of his confused anger coursed through. "You condemned yourself, Agravaine, when you had your man listening at my door!"

Agravaine's face paled until he resembled the colour of cold porridge, realising that at least some of the game was up. He stared at his unusually perceptive nephew, trying to work out the comparative merits of still denying his willing involvement. Arthur threw the purse of gold Drin had been paid with at him. "I believe this is yours!"

"Now, now, Arthur. Can't a relative be concerned?"

"Yes, **Uncle.** But tell me how paying a man to listen in on a private conversation between a prince and his servant should be a cause of such concern?"

"He's a sorcerer!"

That outburst was intentional, Arthur knew, and a diversion to redirect fault from himself, create division within the ranks. The gasps from two sources within the room meant another headache to deal with after this had ended, but Arras had proven his loyalty and he knew Elyan would trust him. Agravaine had underestimated the worth of his men.

"I knew there was something wrong with the boy. You may not see it, Arthur, but his influence over you is too assured and ingrained for a servant, and I needed to be sure before coming to you. Well, when Drin told me he'd confessed, I was happy you'd found the problem yourself and was dealing with it." It was a pathetically thin excuse. Agravaine was clutching at straws.

"There is no justification to pry into my private affairs, none. And in such a manner, no less. Merlin has been nothing but loyal to me and has given a rather large amount of home truths into the bargain. I will deal with him in my own way. It has nothing to do with what you've done." For the first time, he measured the man he once loved unconditionally up and down, and then summed him up with a look of disgust. "I hope Morgana paid you well, Uncle, and that you've had a chance to enjoy your spoils." He turned then to Arras, Elyan and Leon at his back. "Take him to the cells. His trial is set for tomorrow morning. Come back here once you're done." Elyan and Arras were both a little wide-eyed, but Leon just gave him a grim smile and a salute.

There was a regal resignation flowing outward from the prince regent that just set Agravaine's teeth on edge, and now that his secrets were well and truly exposed, the already slipping mask of differential respect dropped completely.

"If you give me a public trial, which side do you think your father's council would take? How many do you think would turn against a trusted nobleman, frantic at the thought of your enchantment at the hands of your traitorous magical servant? He wouldn't live to see another dawn." Spite rolled from his vitriolic tongue as he hissed out the words in so low a voice Arthur's men couldn't hear.

Arthur looked upon him with disappointment and pity, and sighed wearily. What had brought the man so low? Nothing he had done to make him hate him so much had been exactly voluntary, and with grim resolve disabused him of the notion he could manipulate him so easily.

"For once, Agravaine, I would have to disagree most strongly. Oh, I don't think the council will like what I have to say. But I guarantee Merlin will not be paying the price for your mistake. That has happened all too often in this family, innocents bearing the brunt of our guilt. No more, Uncle. It ends now."

His laughter was chilling, almost vile. "The boy's a sorcerer, Arthur, and he's hardly innocent."

The prince regent scoffed. "And you were a trusted member of my family whom I loved and respected, and yet you have been the one plotting my downfall, whilst he has not. He has proven his worth. Can you honestly stand there and tell me you have done the same? You cannot, and I will no longer stand by while the world deals injustices anymore."

"Your father would disown you were he stood before you today."

"And you would no longer be stood there arguing. Your new home in the dungeon would be waiting this having been all the trial my father would have needed with a forgone conclusion to condemn you. This useless posturing will get you nowhere, Agravaine. I am done with you." He turned away gesturing his men forward once again from where they'd been stood watching the proceedings with stoic set faces.

But Agravaine was not done with the nephew he had underestimated. He pulled the dagger he held at his hip, cursing the fact his sword was over at the other side of his room. Well, he had one advantage they didn't know about. It was not a strong gift but it should take them by enough surprise to get him out of there. He would **not** be led to the dungeon like a common criminal.

This was the boy's fault, Agravaine thought. Morgana was right, traitor indeed! Arthur wouldn't do anything for any other magic user, would see them fall to the headsman's axe or be staked to a pyre without a thought before he'd had to face one of his own in the role. His lip curled at Arthur's double standards so like his father. A pet sorcerer was fine so long as they held the leash. As soon as he got out of there he would head to the one place the guards would never look, and take care of that little problem himself. If he were to salvage anything from this debacle he needed to sweeten the deal with Morgana and taking out at least one of her enemies' pawns would go some way to repairing the damage Merlin had caused.

Arthur's men had all pulled their swords and were advancing slowly as if he were some cornered bear and were wary of him. Little did they know just how wary they needed to be, he thought with arrogance. He gathered what little force he could within himself, though it would be enough for just one strike, no more. And he would be exhausted later once the adrenalin wore off. It was always the same, but by then he was hoping to be well away from this God-forsaken city. If he timed it just so he might even push the prince onto one of the other swords and leave the way open for Morgana in one fell swoop.

Leon and Elyan were almost directly in front of him, the guard just behind and Arthur slightly to his left. It was now or never. The hand holding the dagger came up as did the one without but with his palm facing them almost as if he were surrendering. The men paused, Agravaine smiled, and then he hit them. **"** **Astrice** **!"**

To see the look of disbelief and pure shock upon his nephew's face was well worth it as was the amount of force he managed to produce. More than at any other time he had ever tried before. All the men were pushed back and over, Elyan's sword grazing over Arthur's legs as he fell and causing the prince to cry out. Agravaine didn't stop to find out how badly he was injured. He used the distraction to make good on his escape.

He kept a small cache of weapons and gold to hand in the small locked servant's room just down the hallway and paused to gather both crossbow and bolts as well as a substantial purse before taking the less travelled servant's stairs to the dungeon level. He had a score to settle with a meddlesome servant who would have done well to learn his place a long time ago.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N Now this is the last chapter of this fic. I know I know I'm cruel and heartless but as I said before there is more to the story the next one in the series is called 'Chains of the Present' And will carry on the adventure. I just needed the leeway of having it set later. So there ya go, on with the show.**

 **Doberler-Beta-fabulous! You don't need more than that as a description She's just the best.**

 **And honestly I can't even tell you how unnecessary it is to tell you I have nothing of Merlin, just don't.**

 **...**

Chapter 22.

Merlin had expected the pain, the disorientation, and the feeling of weakness when he next woke. Though the weakness and disorientation weren't as bad as he had feared. He hadn't thought there would be anyone there to witness it. So seeing Agravaine standing just beyond the bars, practically leering at him was, to say the least, a surprise.

He rose slowly to sit, making sure not to make the mistake of putting his weight on his wrists. He couldn't feel them at all now and there were pins and needles flowing under the pain up the rest of his arm to his shoulder. He needed the cuffs off soon or it could cause damage that would take far too long to heal.

Making his way to his feet was not as hard as he'd assumed either. A small blessing, especially as Agravaine pulled the concealed weapon from behind his back as soon as he stood. It was rather unexpected. How had he known he would be down here…unless…had Arthur told him? He hoped not.

The crossbow was trained so steadily, the man behind it like marble, unmoving and just as icy.

"Will you shoot in cold blood, Agravaine? I always knew you were a man of little honour and overwhelming cowardice, but this seems excessive, even for you." Merlin's tone was mild, conversational, as if the words themselves were not inflammatory. He had to keep the man talking, push for more time, feed him just the right amount of rope to keep his interest whilst he worked on the cuffs and the means to his downfall.

The magic in the cuffs had been weakening for quite some time and was almost to the point of breaking. He could tell it was, his own power having been fed into them for long hours now. He was so close, the pain buzzing and burning hotter with every pulse he pushed at the runes binding them to his wrists. The sensation like a brand being held consistently against his skin kept him grounded, the terrible ache constant but meaning he was still aware even as he had lost all feeling within his hands and fingers.

That bolt would hurt more. Might even be enough to send him unconscious depending on where he hit. He was not prepared to grant him that opportunity.

"What did you do to the guards? Shoot them, or just used your influence to send them packing?" All of a sudden Agravaine's mouth tightened. _What had he said?_ He didn't have to wait long to find out. He didn't sound like Agravaine when he spoke. He was something darker, detached and dangerous. Even when he'd confronted the man in that alternate time he'd never sounded so dangerous. He'd died with a smirk on his face and a deep seated belief in his invincibility.

"Thanks to you and whatever the hell you've said to poison my nephew's view of me, my influence is no longer valid. No more."

"Oh. Arthur listened to me for once? Well, there's a first! No matter. I'm sure Morgana will be there to welcome you with open arms." Though he was being flippant, he hoped not, there still being a very slim chance Morgana had taken what he'd shown her and was even now choosing another path. He hadn't heard from her again and could only wonder if his words had taken root. It would, of course, be foolish to reveal their conversation unless the man already knew of it. "If it takes you away from Arthur I welcome it. I'm curious, though. Why would you turn on him, Agravaine, when he is your last link to your sister?"

"He and his charlatan-of-a-father killed her! And then turned on everyone else!"

"And you would blame Arthur for the sins of Uther?! He was a baby! Less than a day old and entirely innocent. Ygraine would be turning in her grave at what you would do to her son!"

Agravaine's face became twisted, murderous, the sentiment rolling off in a veritable tidal wave that practically buffeted Merlin. How much further could he push the noble's crumbling countenance? He only needed seconds more.

"Don't you dare!" His face flushed beet red, veins popped in forehead and neck. "You have meddled in affairs that are above your concern for the last time. You are a peasant, **_boy_** , and will die a peasant-!"

The bolt shot out unexpectedly before he'd even finished speaking, so unexpectedly that Merlin never even had the chance to blink. The bolt caught the warlock square in the chest just as his magic erupted through the cuffs. He fell backwards a look of innocence more than surprise crossing his calm features and the dull metallic clink of the manacles hitting the floor just before the rest of his body followed them in a soft thud.

Even though this had been the intended outcome all along, it startled Agravaine nonetheless, and the disgraced lord didn't stay to see the result of his handiwork. He had seen the bolt enter the spot right above the boy's heart. From this close, there was no way he would survive such a shot. Merlin was dead, and Agravaine's only regret was that he had been unable to kill the boy before Arthur turned against him and razed his hopes.

Perhaps if he had stayed, had turned and looked just once more before fleeing, he may have questioned his certainty in the demise of his enemy. Merlin's eyes were wide open, staring sightlessly true, but the pale golden glow now surrounding the body spoke of life still within, Emrys' magic's reaction to a perceived threat unconsciously creating a shield to protect him from further harm. The radiance was not great, but in the dim confines of his cell, it was just discernible against the gloom.

By the time Arthur arrived and knelt down on shaky legs beside him, most of the gold had been absorbed back into Merlin's skin, leaving just a shimmer under the surface and flames dancing within his irises. The danger having passed long since and the magic needed elsewhere to keep him alive after what would have been a mortal wound in any other man, concentrating itself around the head of the bolt buried deep into the muscle. A barrier and automatic protection from further harm and doing what it could to heal without direction, it was little enough with the bolt still embedded, leaving the man almost on the brink of death, but unable to cross that last faint line.

…..

How could it feel like he had lost a limb when Merlin had been sent down to the dungeon for his practice of sorcery, but for his uncle to throw him halfway across a room with magic just left him feeling numb?

He didn't even feel much surprise after that first jolt, couldn't muster up any form of protest within his mind. It was just blank, as if all feeling where he was concerned had been shunted aside when Agravaine's power had slammed them to earth. Arthur was empty.

He'd thought the world of his uncle, one of the last ties holding him to his departed mother. And Agravaine had told him to his face he was there as part of the last promise he'd ever made to her. He'd asked himself countless times since Merlin had shown him for a traitor just why he would feel such hate toward him.

Now he knew. It was revenge just like so many before him, but added to it was a deep-seated need for Arthur to pay the same price his mother had for the deal Uther had made. Did his uncle feel he was not worth the bargain?

In the face of so many who opposed him, died for him all unknowing, he couldn't help feeling that he was not. His life for over a thousand, it was too steep a price. He would give his life back in a heartbeat to have them all returned to their families.

He rolled over from where he'd been pushed back, looking over at his men and wincing at the stinging in both his thighs where Elyan's sword had caught him.

Arras and Leon seemed the most dazed, slumped as they were against Agravaine's table, it looked like they'd hit it when they fell. Elyan was on his knees holding his head with one hand, and looking at the wounds on Arthur's legs with concern.

There was blood certainly, but on closer inspection there was little damage, just thin slices, barely more than scratches where the skin had been scraped away. They had bled profusely but the flow would no doubt stop on its own very shortly. He'd had far worse in training sessions.

"Guards!" Arthur's shout rang through the now open door as he made his slow way to his injured men. Elyan waved him off, pointing to both Leon and the guard who was clutching his arm protectively. "I'm fine. Just a bit winded and dizzy. It'll pass."

Arthur clutched his shoulder and limped his way to Arras. "Let me see?"

"I hit it on the table leg," the guard said through gritted teeth, cradling an arm. "I think it's just sprained. I've broken it before and this doesn't hurt nearly as much."

"We'll get Gaius to check it all the same."

The guards had finally shown up, rushing through the door, eyes bugging out at the scene. The prince became all business.

"Sound the warning bell. Get as many guards as you can to look for my uncle. Agravaine DuBois is a traitor selling secrets from the court." The guards looked blank. Everyone knew how dear the lord had been to the regent, how fierce they were to defend each other. And now to hear the call for his arrest from the regent himself was stunning. Arthur, when he saw their hesitation, growled at them like never before.

"What the hell are you waiting for?! Move!" He grabbed the last man as they turned to leave. "Get Gaius. We have injuries here. Hurry. And send someone to stay with my father and Lady Guinevere."

The guard's eyes narrowed with fierce determination, nodded, and left at a quick trot. Arthur didn't think Agravaine would be stupid enough to try to get to his father now, but he thought it better to be sure, especially with the tale Merlin had told earlier of Uther's death. If he hated his father with enough passion to see him dead, how did he feel about his choice of lady?

Arras had by now sat up properly helped by Elyan and they were leaning against each other offering mutual support. Leon, however, still looked dazed, his eyes hooded and grimacing in pain, one hand held to the back of his head. Arthur checked him over, finding a bloody knot at the back of his skull that corresponded with a red-stained patch of floor.

His was the most severe injury, head wounds bled a lot but he had trouble focusing and Arthur could only conclude he had a concussion. He grabbed one of Agravaine's shirts from his cupboard, folding the material to make a pad and held it against the slowly bleeding gash. Leon gave a grunt of pain and turned a shade whiter.

"Don't go passing out on me. I can't have you sleeping on the job."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Sire."

The warning bell started up moments later just as the door opened again, admitting both Gaius and Percival through the door. The physician looked weary but assessed the situation with sharp clear eyes, coming immediately to Leon and relieving the king of the shirt/bandage. Percival, resigned, asked how he could help with such a flat tone it was obvious he was holding back some strong emotion.

"I think he has a concussion." He knew Gaius hated it when other's tried to diagnose so he stood back and let him through to work. "Agravaine is a traitor." He said it so softly but Gaius heard and stopped his ministrations. He caught the hurt of betrayal flicker briefly in the eyes of a young prince before they hardened into the regent the man was today. Arthur had grown up.

More help arrived and Percival, noting Arthur and Leon's injuries, took over the coordination of the search.

"Please be seated, sire," Gaius said gently, setting aside the slight he'd had toward Arthur in the face of his obvious distress, the age-old stab of betrayal biting the young prince once again. There would be time enough later for thoughts of recrimination. In the mean time he was a physician first and foremost and the prince was hurt. "It won't take long to treat those wounds."

Arthur just felt detached and sat in a chair to one side impassively as Gaius gave calm instruction to his helpers whilst skilfully cleaning, checking and bandaging them all. And this from a man he had treated little better than a common criminal, without once explaining why. He had been wrong.

His thoughts turned to Merlin, to what Guinevere had said earlier, about sitting in a cell with little hope of release. But he'd gone stoically with only regret and no malice. He could afford to be lenient. He owed him a debt for unmasking his uncle, probably for much more than that. He would go down and release him to his guardian's care. It was the least he could do. The rest he would have to work up to. Figure out on his own.

Without further thought, he stood and walked out, ignoring the calls of "My lord" or "Arthur". Even the sound of the warning bell disappeared in the white noise and chaos around him as he made his way down to the dungeon level. He had not even bothered to take a guard with him, and wished he had when he found the two sentries at the entrance to the dungeon, slumped over, bolts sticking out of their rapidly cooling bodies. A quick check for a pulse confirmed what he had feared. Dead. He hurried out to the cells hoping but knowing instinctively what he would find.

And there he was, lying motionless, a bolt in his chest, eyes staring toward the ceiling.

He gave a wordless cry, and fumbled the keys in his haste to unlock the door. He ran to his side, falling heavily to his knees, ignoring the sharp throbbing of reopened leg wounds and the fresh trickle of blood. His hands hovered uncertainly, shakily over the stillness that was his friend. His breath quickened, tightening his chest and bringing the prickle of tears to his eyes he fought to keep away. He had to keep his wits.

Realising there was no blood around Merlin's body or even around the point of entry, Arthur quickly checked for a heartbeat. There didn't seem to be one, and his breath caught, and the water in his eyes tried to blind him. How could he have been so stupid? He'd sent men to protect his father and his lady, and yet had never thought to do the same for Merlin.

The wound was a mortal one. Even he with so little medical knowledge knew a man could never walk away from such an injury. And yet the skin was still warm where his hand rested against his neck, not like the guards in the anteroom. With renewed hope however slight, he pulled out his knife, and held it against Merlin's mouth. And there, the faintest hint of fog marring the blade. He was alive, though barely. It was as if that knowledge released a dam inside him with a choked cry, and the tears began to fall in earnest. His last ounce of regal dignity was gone, his sobs catching in his throat as his tears fell from his face to wet Merlin's shirt.

"Help!" Arthur croaked. After another sob, he managed, "Somebody help! Guards!"

It was when he looked down and the merest twitch in the pale warlock's cheek prompted him to scoot around to Merlin's head and lift it from the cold ground, manoeuvring his knees underneath.

"Merlin?" A soft slap on the cheek did nothing except shift his head to the side, eyes still unblinking. It wasn't for nothing, Merlin. Damn it, he had to know. It made him just hold on all the tighter and made his voice stumble with fear and an inexplicable rage.

"Come on, Merlin. You told me you couldn't die! You're not **allowed** to die until I tell you, you can. Do you hear me? Merlin?"

…..

He was walking through a garden. Bright and shining green leaves sparkled with sunlight on early morning dew. Spider webs stretched across the face of a couple of laurel bushes bejewelled with water droplets. A squirrel ran across the grassy path ahead and scrambled with great haste up a birch behind a glorious array of Gladioli and calendula. It was a blazing mass of orange and red that reminded him of sunshine radiating down with heat and light and life.

It was beautiful, peaceful, and serene. It gave Merlin a feeling of joy as he walked down the paths. Even the slight niggling in the back of his mind as if he had forgotten something could not cut in to his delight.

He wandered for hours revelling in the sights and sounds and smells of the winding walkway, herbs stuffed amidst small rocky banks, cornflowers, roses, and lupins standing above beds filled with phlox, thyme, and lady's mantle. It was heavenly and became even better when passing under an arch of branches woven between two trees the path suddenly ended at a promontory, the flat cliff top smooth and grassy, sporting a solitary bench with fancifully carved armrests in the shape of two dragons.

Something about the imagery called to Merlin and he sat, running his hand along the head and neck of the nearest dragon, feeling as if he had done something similar before. And then a shaft of sunlight broke through the small amount of clouds lighting the vista of ripening wheat fields in gold tinged flame.

Merlin tilted his head and closed his eyes revelling in the heat.

"There is an interesting blend within the energy from a sun, is there not?" It startled him, to hear a voice after being alone in the garden for so long. Merlin looked at the figure curiously. The

][black-clad old woman seeming out of place surrounded by such beauty. He knew this woman, he was sure of it, but he could not immediately recall from where.

"Is there? I hadn't thought of it."

"You would do well to, Emrys. It affects all things." Merlin thought about that, not entirely sure what she meant.

"How?"

"The sun gives life. It allows my garden to grow and thrive. It brings happiness within its golden glow and yet people forget that it is death that brings such elation. The death of a star, for instance. It consumes itself so that the energy it releases can nourish new growth."

It was an interesting concept, yes, and Merlin became absorbed in the intricacies of such an idea until a thought intruded. He wasn't sure where it came from, seeming familiar but foreign and Merlin marvelled at the incongruity of it.

"A life for a life. You talk of balance?"

"I do. There is balance in all things, Emrys. You will need to remember this in the days ahead."

With that, she was gone, as if she had been just a figment of his imagination. It was not too far from the truth. When he looked around again, the cliff was still there but the golden peace had disappeared.

Instead of ripe fields, there were charred remains. A battle had raged here, so recent the bodies lay still upon the ground. Broken forms amidst banners that had once flown so proud. He stared in mounting horror at gold dragons standing defiantly on crimson discarded alongside white griffins stark against deepest black. He had seen these pennants before. _Where, though?_ His mind wouldn't allow him to remember. He needed a closer look.

He turned intending to take the path down to the field and was suddenly overcome with a wave of dizziness. Pain radiating from his chest. _What?_

He put a hand to the place where the waves of agony were centred and feeling wetness seeping through his fingers brought his hand up to stare at the scarlet blood now staining them. The world darkened around him and when he looked up he was in the middle of the battlefield. White walls of a large city just visible down in a cleft between the hill he was kneeling on and a much larger tree lined one beyond it. Again it looked so familiar and the horror he had felt on the cliff trebled as did the pain in his chest as he looked into the sightless eyes of a lifeless soldier. His strength gave out, the blood now pouring from his wound as he fell on his side.

 _"Merlin?"_

The hush of the dead-strewn meadow was broken by a cry of distress.

 _"Come on, Merlin. You told me you couldn't die! You're not_ ** _allowed_** _to die until I tell you, you can. Do you hear me? Merlin?"_

He knew that voice. Had waited so long to hear it again. It took all of his remaining strength just to whisper the name of the one it belonged to all the memories of before flooding back in an endless wave.

"Arthur…"


End file.
